


Muddled Love

by CR11



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Awkward Dates, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Comedy, Complete, Cute, Cute Ending, Dark, Dark Past, Drama, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epic Friendship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Funny, Gen, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope & Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster Are Best Friends, Love, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Plot Twists, Prince Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Psychological Drama, Real Life, Realistic, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Sad, Slice of Life, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 78,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CR11/pseuds/CR11
Summary: Jung Hoseok: a womanizer and the one that always gets me slapped in the face. He's my best friend. And then there's Park Bogum, my childhood friend who recently got engaged to my annoying sister. Me? Been single all my life and am determined to get a boyfriend. Toss all these together and what do you have? A muddled type of romance. (Completed story)





	1. Confession Time

There’s always a reason for something, and it’s definitely not because of fate or some heavenly being out there. If you think about earthquakes, there are plate tectonics moving below and sometimes, there is too much pressure so the plates might slide against one another and cause an earthquake. What about being born? A woman and a man decide to have sex and then keep the baby. So now here’s my question: why in the world am I still single after twenty-five years of living? Twenty-five years as you can guess is my current age.

I don’t know how many times I have searched online for twenty-five and have not kissed. Fortunately, there were enough hits to make me feel slightly better until my sister who I love and hate at the same time has to remind me, “So do you have anyone that you like? Have you met anyone new at work lately? What about that guy that you said was cute and had asked to lunch?”

Yes about that guy, he did go to lunch with me and then proceeded to ask me about Alexandra Newman, the prettiest paralegal at our law firm. Regarding the question of who I like, there really isn’t anyone. I haven’t felt my heart skip a beat for a human being for a long, long time. The last time I did was during my second-year university exchange to France and I fell for a Japanese guy called Sasaki Rei. Sadly, I only fell for him after he got tired of me, and so nothing came out of it. Plus, there was no way that I’d be relocating to Japan when I was aiming to go to law school.

Now that I’m out of law school and have been working for a couple of years at my law firm, I should be able to have a relationship or at least get laid. I know the issue isn’t my looks; I have had men confess to me or be eager to get to know me at first. It’s only after that they know me do they shy away or run off from me. I’m starting to think that perhaps my personality is awful. Maybe I am like Blair from Gossip Girl, though I do like her fashion sense.

So here’s a Saturday night that I am spending at my apartment with an Asahi beer in one hand and fried chicken wings in another while thinking about my reason for being single when all of a sudden, I hear pounding at my door. Knowing this erratic rhythm of pounds, I head to the front door and open it to find Jung Hoseok rushing in.

“Close the god damn door!” he barks at me. As I slowly obey him, I hear a woman shrieking his name down the hallway. Immediately, I turn to frown at him, causing him to stammer, “L-L-Look, Gem, I can explain.”

“What did you tell that woman this time?” I grumble.

“I just said that I didn’t want to see her tonight and then she followed me all the way to your place,” he clarifies in a breathless tone.

“And why are you coming to my place? You know that I hate last minute surprises . . .”

“W-W-Well . . .”

His trailing voice lets me guess what has happened, so I share with him my conclusions: “You were actually going to go on another date with this other woman you met, so you used me as an excuse.”

“Bingo!” He even has the audacity to point at me with both of his hands mimicking a gun. “The winner goes to Miss Gemma Fan!”

“You’re such an ass, you know that?” I groan.

Before I can complain more, the woman continues to yell, “I know you’re in there, Hoseok! Stop hiding and man up!”

“Yeah,” I scoff and cross my arms. “Stop hiding and man up.”

“And you said I was an ass,” he murmurs.

“I’m just repeating the truth,” I correct him.

“Sure.”

I shake my head, reminding him, “You shouldn’t piss me off when I’m the one giving you refuge. You’re technically the refugee here in my domain.”

“Can you not make me sound like some starving orphan from a developing country?”

“Oh wait.” I place my hand to my cheek and pout my lips as I contemplate. “You’re actually . . . a man whore who can’t keep his junk in his pants.”

The pounding continues along with the screaming: “Hoseok, you come out here with your slut!”

I’ve played the role of a bi.tch too many times that I’m getting bored of the lines that I say. Usually I just need to tell his girlfriend that he has already fallen in love with me or that he doesn’t want to date her anymore. Subsequently, I get slapped in the face, splashed by some form of liquid, spat in the face, or pushed down to the floor. Before a cat fight can happen, Hoseok usually pulls us apart and then apologizes to the girlfriend. Then the scene ends with Hoseok treating me to some fancy lunch or dinner. Sometimes, if he feels very regretful, he will buy me something that I want like a Kindle or an Ipad.

In fact, Hoseok and I actually met because of something similar to this scene, except it was with my own sister, Irene. Irene happened to be dating Hoseok’s older cousin, Kim Namjoon, until she cheated on him and found a better catch. Irene, being the coward she was, begged me to tell Namjoon that she wanted to break up, and in exchange, I would be paid $200. Namjoon and Hoseok were living together at the time since Hoseok was going to college around the area. Unfortunately, when I arrived at their household, Hoseok was the one to greet me and since I assumed that only Namjoon would be living there, I mistook Hoseok for Namjoon. I ended up saying the lines Irene wanted to voice only to be laughed at by Hoseok. I can still remember his horse-like guffaw and his horse-like face. What a J-Horse.

_“Oh my fu.cking God! This is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time! Ha! Wait till I till everyone in the family! Ha! Namjoon getting cheated on! I knew she was bad news! Ha! God I can’t wait to see him crying like a little girl! Ha!” Hoseok rambled._

_Meanwhile, I was standing there watching a fool laugh till his stomach hurt and waiting for him to recover. By the time, Hoseok caught his breath, I asked, “So when will Namjoon be home? I can’t go home until I tell him the news in person.”_

_“Ugh,” Hoseok scratched the side of his head and mumbled. “It’ll be pretty late. He usually gets off work at around 10 or 11 pm. Maybe it’s best that you come back later or let Irene do the work.”_

_He was about to close to door on me, but I stop held onto the handle and told him, “No! I can’t go. It takes me an hour by the metro to get back home.”_

_“I can drive you home,” Hoseok suggested._

_“No. I made a promise with my sister that I’d finish the job by tonight.”_

_“Fine,” Hoseok agreed and opened the door wide for me. “You can stay at the living room until Namjoon comes home.”_

_I ended up sitting awkwardly on the sofa and faced a plasma TV that had been turned off. Hoseok was behind me at the kitchen table and was eating his dinner. I thought I wouldn’t be hungry, but smelling his pasta made my stomach grumble very loudly, so loudly that I could hear Hoseok’s laugh._

_“Sorry,” I apologized._

_“No it’s fine. It’s already six anyways. Do you want to join me then?” Hoseok offered. “I happened to make extra.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yup. That’s fine.”_

_As soon as he finished his sentence, I dashed to the kitchen and took the seat in front of him. Hoseok walked to the stove and prepared my serving of spaghetti and meatballs. As he placed the plate in front of me, I could feel my drool almost dripping down to my chin._

_“Wow,” I blurted. “This looks so good. You honestly made this?”_

_“Yup! Cooking is a hobby of mine,” he told me._

_“Is cleaning also a hobby of yours?” I accidentally pondered._

_“Haha. Why?”_

_“Nothing,” I mumbled and stuffed my face with a meatball._

_“Tell me. I’m curious why you asked that.”_

_After I finished munching, I verified, “Are you sure you want to know why?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Okay. Well . . . if you liked cleaning as well, I was wondering if I could employ you as my maid?”_

_Hoseok nearly choked on the glass of wine he was sipping due to his laughter. “No thanks,” he told me. “Say,” he suddenly wondered, “do you happen to go to the university here?”_

_“Yeah. Why are you asking that?”_

_“I’m also studying there too! I’m in my second year, and my major is in business administration.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“No wonder you look familiar,” he added. “What’s your name?”_

_I then placed my fork on the plate and pondered, “Is this some pickup line?”_

_“No?” he mumbled. “It’s just small talk?”_

_“I hate small talk,” I sighed and continued to eat.  “You know . . . you can carry on with whatever you were doing before and ignore my presence.”_

_“Well I was going to go out after I finished dinner.”_

_“Then you can go out faster,” I argued._

_“Don’t you think it’s reasonable for me not to leave the house when there’s a stranger here?”_

_“True. I guess we’ll have to make do with each other.”_

_There was at least five minutes of silence between us before Hoseok finally said, “I’m Jung Hoseok. And your name?”_

_“Gemma Fan, half American, half Korean.”_

_Hoseok’s eyes lit up as he blabbed, “No wonder you have black hair and light brown eyes! I was trying to guess what you were all this time.”_

_“Gee, I sound like an alien.”_

_“No, no,” he corrected himself. “You look quite fine. Just on the short side.”_

_“Hey! Just because I am five foot one, doesn’t mean that—“_

_Before I could finish my sentence, Namjoon came home and asked, “Oh, Hoseok, is this your new girlfriend? She doesn’t look like your type. Don’t you usually date really skinny models?”_

_Since I felt like I had been punched hard in the stomach, I instinctively announced to Namjoon, “I’m actually your ‘ex’-girlfriend’s sister. You see, Irene said that she fell for someone else and wants to break up now.”_

_I really regretted being the bearer of bad news because Namjoon ended up wailing till he couldn’t open his eyes. Hoseok and I had to give him a tub of cookie dough ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s while we listened to him recant about how much he loved her, how they had met, why she left him, and who she fell for. Namjoon had complained so much that I had to stay over at their place and had to wear the same outfit to school the next day. Thanks to this scenario, I got misinterpreted by Hoseok’s then girlfriend and received my first slap from a woman. This continued to spark this cycle of girlfriends coming at me to get their revenge._

 

This time, I want to try to play another scene, so prior to opening the door for the furious monster to come in, I warn Hoseok, “You’re going to owe me big time now.”

“You!” this girlfriend instantly points at me and then gives me a large blow to my face.

Feeling rather annoyed that I’m getting a slap before I even had the chance to say anything, I purposely groan loudly for Hoseok to pity me. “What was that for?” I howl.

“Stop acting like you’re the victim when you’ve been sleeping with my boyfriend!” she shrieks.

I roll my eyes and jeer, “The one that isn’t loved is the one that shouldn’t even belong in the relationship.” I wrap my arm around Hoseok’s and intentionally lean my head against him. “Right, honey bun?” I look up and make the best grin I can think of.

Caught by surprise, Hoseok stammers, “Y-Y-Yes. Of course.”

“Oh my God! How can you even side with this bi.tch?” she roars.

“Don’t call her that, Minhee,” Hoseok utters.

“I can’t believe it!” She continues to shake her head back and forth.

Knowing that this is the perfect time to end everything, I cling onto Hoseok’s arm tighter and tell him, “Darling, let’s continue from where we left off mm?” Then, I squeeze his butt once and rub my hand up and down his back. I hear a weird moan coming from Hoseok, but I try to ignore his odd behaviour. “Please just leave us be,” I tell Natalie. Then, I slam the door in her face and call the security of this apartment to take her away. When I finish my call, I turn my head to find Hoseok still standing there in shock. “Hello?” I wave my hand in front of his face a few times. “You awake?”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” he stutters while keeping his head low.

“What’s wrong?” I wonder.

“I feel . . . like I’ve been . . . raped,” he proclaims, causing me to kick him in the ass. “Ouch! God, Gem, do you seriously have to attack me so violently?” His eyebrows furrow together as he rubs his bottom.

“Serves you right for making me get slapped again,” I huff before heading to the kitchen to grab some ice. This Minhee managed to claw my cheek with her sharp nails. Somehow the women that Hoseok date always have colourful, long nails that hurt when I’m getting hit.

Following behind me, Hoseok remarks, “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah you better be,” I snap at him while opening the freezer’s door.

“But I always make it up to you right?”

As soon as I close the freezer door, I notice his bubbly smile which has been used too often to win over the hearts of women. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok had been asked to model for some dental advertisement. Actually, he can model for anything; I’m sure people would buy something from him, even tires or sewing machines.

“Maybe,” I mumble and place the ice pack on my face.

“Wait,” Hoseok tells me. “Let me take a look.” With much reluctance, I lift the ice pack from my cheek and let him examine the swollen area. “I think you got a few cuts here too,” he notes. He slips his hand in his pocket for his wallet and takes out a band-aid. Then, he unwraps the wrapper and places the band-aid on my cut. “There,” he says. “That’s better.”

I see him trying to muffle his laughter, so I wonder, “What’s so funny?”

“S-S-Sorry,” he murmurs. “Y-Y-You . . . Hahahaha!”

“What?”

“You . . . look like a NFL player or like some rapper. Hahahahahahaha!”

I grab onto my cheeks and complain, “Ugh! What am I going to do now? How the hell am I going to get a boyfriend?”

“Why do you even need one?” Hoseok looks at me with much confusion.

I throw my arms in the air and start ranting: “Hello? I’m already twenty five and I haven’t even had a proper date yet. I haven’t even gotten laid yet and I haven’t even kissed a guy before!”

Hoseok simply stares at me for one whole minute before announcing one word: “Fuck.”

“Exactly.” After I release my sigh, I purr, “I think I should get Tinder.”

“Tin-what?” he hollers. “No!” He slaps his hand on the counter. “You are not going to sink that low.”

“What are you even talking about? There are still decent people on Tinder. I’m sure that—“

“Do you want your whole office to know about your dating situation huh?”

“But the people on Tinder in the office would just know.”

Hoseok still refutes, “No. You are not getting Tinder. I’m not going to send you out there to be raped by some horny dude and then have a sex tape made about it to be circulated all over the world.”

“Okay,” I blink a few times and reply. “You’re overreacting.”

“You’re overreacting by going that far.”

I shrug my shoulders and look to the side. “I was actually thinking of finding a sperm donor in the future if I can’t find a husband. I do want to have a kid you know?”

“What if you get the sperm of some criminal or a really dumb guy? Huh?” Hoseok suggests. “It’s better to get some sperm from someone you know and trust.”

“Like?”

“If you . . . needed, I could—“

“Ew. No, Hoseok, no. I’m not gonna use your sperm. I don’t want the risk of getting some womanizer as a son,” I wave my hands at him and object.

“Hey,” Hoseok reminds me. “I’m not a bad guy, you know? My appearance definitely qualifies.”

I take a good look at Hoseok and objectively assess his appearance. He has a pair of striking brown eyes and chiseled cheek bones, a tall, straight nose, and a striking forehead. Irene always tells me how much Hoseok looks like this pretty actress called Jasper Liu, and I do agree with her. That sort of makes me cringe though. I’m not sure who to pity—Hoseok or the actress. They’re both good looking though. Hoseok has a decent height too; I really am a dwarf beside him.

“But your infidelity sucks,” I comment, “and your personality is crap. I think I’m still going to sign up for Tinder.”

I reach for my phone that is on the counter only to have Hoseok get it first. “What’s really going on with you, Gem?” he asks. “You’ve never been so desperate before.”

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes.” Hoseok makes himself right at home by pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher that I have beside the sink.

“All right.” I gasp for a big breath of air before I make the statement. “My best guy friend is engaged.”

Hoseok only mentions, “I’m not engaged. I thought . . . I was your best guy friend.”

“Um . . . he also happens to be my childhood friend. We’ve known each other since we were in kindergarten, and I’m pretty sure I’ve loved him for all these years.”

It must be lottery day for me because Hoseok manages to spit out the water he is about to gulp down, and all of the water lands on my face. Is it so hard to believe that I’ve had a crush on another man for a long time?

Hoseok just responds with this: “Fuck.”


	2. Why I'm Single

After I take a quick shower to get all of Hoseok’s saliva out of my face and hair and finish drying my hair, I find Hoseok sitting quietly on my sofa, staring off into nowhere. The TV isn’t even on, and there certainly isn’t some action going on across my apartment from my windows. He isn’t even on the phone calling someone or messaging some chick. He is just there like a bronze statue at a park.

“Are you okay?” I confirm as I approach him. “Do you need a beer or something? Or maybe a cookie?” Usually before I can offer him a drink, he already takes the initiative to grab something from my fridge. Luckily, my cooking skills aren’t as good as his, so he doesn’t really like eating my food. He does enjoy my baking, so my cookies, muffins, or cakes always get devoured by his big fat mouth.

“No. I don’t feel like eating.” he mutters under his breath without even looking at me.

No to cookies? Knowing that this is severe, I ask him, “Are you . . . that annoyed about me not telling you about my childhood friend?”

Finally, Hoseok makes eye contact with me, yet I feel like I am getting stared down by an Italian gangster. Then, he opens his mouth just to say, “I thought we were closer than that.”

“Okay. I can explain. It’s just that I thought Bogum would never come back to Korea. I thought he’d just stay in the UK and I never expected him to be engaged to . . . my sister,” I tell him. “I’m sure you have some secrets that you’d never share with me.”

“That’s not true,” he refutes. “I’m open to share anything if you just ask.”

Feeling rather skeptical, I shoot him quite a personal question: “Tell me your first sexual experience then.”

Without even blushing, Hoseok answers, “I was fourteen and this girl in her senior year said she could make me feel good at her house party. She was a hot cheerleader and was mad at her boyfriend for flirting with this other girl. Then, she took me to her room and—“

“Stop,” I interrupt. “That’s enough. I don’t need to hear more. I get the idea.”

Leaning backwards on the sofa, he grumbles, “You’re the one that asked first.”

“Fine. You’re right, but I didn’t expect you to actually spill the beans.”

He lifts his shoulders and points out, “See? I told you that I’d share anything with you if you’d just ask.”

There is one question that has always bugged me, and I always thought it would be awfully rude to ask him about it. However, since he offered for me to poke at him all I want about his secrets, I muster the courage to enquire, “Then why are you such a player?”

Wagging a finger in front of my nose, he revises my statement: “I’m not a player, Gem. Very disappointed that you’d even believe that.”

I roll my eyes at this delusional man who has slept with so many women that I’m getting to know all the possible female names out there. The most unique name I’ve heard so far has been Okyrhoe, a Greek name meaning fast flowing. Of course, there have been a lot of Jessicas, Ashleys, Katies or some form of that, Jeonhyun, Taehee, Bora, and Jisoo. Just by the sheer number of names I can list, I’m still surprised that he hasn’t contracted herpes.  Perhaps Darwin really wanted Hoseok to spread his genes to make the best kid out there, but if that were the case, Hoseok would have had some child already. If he did, I can’t even imagine how that kid would turn out. A second Hoseok? Out to infect more women? No and ew.

“You’re making that face again,” Hoseok all of a sudden indicates.

“What face?”

“Where you look like you’ve been constipated for a week and so you’re trying to squeeze just one bit of feces out of you,” he informs me.

I grimace at him and cross my arms together. “I can totally see why you can’t have a steady girlfriend.”

“Why? Miss Brainiac? Why?”

“I already said before. You have a shitty personality.”

He yawns at me without even covering his hippo mouth. “You’re boring me, Gem. Give me a better reason, and you should know me better than that.”

“Oh!” I pretend to act really excited as if I just managed to grow taller and own a pair of long legs that are as long as SNSD’s Sooyoung. She really is my idol for her body; she has the perfect body . . . if she happens to have a bit of Choa’s boobs. “You actually had your heart broken, so now you’re acting like an asshole to get revenge on all the women out there!” I clap my hands like a seal on stage at the aquarium.

I’m waiting for my treat to be given to me, but instead, Hoseok flicks me in the forehead and scoffs, “You’ve been watching too many chick flicks.”

“I was being sarcastic, okay?” I utter. “I’m pretty sure you’re just a jerk.”

“Look.” He extends his palm to me like a stop sign and clarifies, “I have logic in this type of dating.”

“Oh really? Enlighten me, Mr. Genius.”

Sitting upright, he now flashes a wide grin and remarks, “First of all, to know if I’d be able to be with someone, I need to know if I’m sexually attracted and compatible with them.” He then lists the second item with his fingers. “Secondly, I need to know if I’m mentally compatible with them and the third point is the most important one.”

“Which is?”

“To see how long it takes for me not to get bored of her.”

I try to process his reasoning in my head, and as I go through all of his criteria, I hate to admit it, but Hoseok does have a legitimate point to his way of dating. His theory, however, does not execute well in practice when I think back to the number of times I have gotten my face attacked. Being the victim here, I can’t help but scold him, “But you suck at breaking up with them!”

“I’ve . . . ugh . . . never been good with saying no.” He pretends to act all shy and even glances away.

Hoseok’s inability to reject someone has been a well-known fact to me. Whenever someone hands him a flyer, he accepts it and tells me that he would feel bad if the person lost his or her job for not being able to deliver all of the flyers. If someone asks Hoseok to babysit some pet, he always agrees if he is in town. When a cashier asks if he wants to sign up for promotions by giving out his email, he always does because he feels awful if he has to see a depressed face. What’s worse is that he can’t say no to women. The funny yet stupid part is that I’ve never asked him to do much for me even though I know that if I needed to, he’d come and help me.

“Gem,” Hoseok out of the blue inches towards me and pushes my hair behind my ear, “are you mad at me for having you deal with my breakups? Is this why you wouldn’t tell me about your childhood friend?”

I nervously look away from him. Hoseok is doing his puppy look which he knows is super effective on me. I can’t reject anything that reminds me of a cute terrier. “St-St-Stay away from me,” I order and back away from him on the couch, but Hoseok pins me down by the wrists and hovers over me.

In a sweet voice, he whispers, “You’ve been a bad girl, Gemma, and bad girls need to be punished.”

Despite how cheesy this line is and how much I feel like I’m in _50 Shades of Grey_ now, I’m still blushing. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is really good at changing his voice; he used to imitate a lot of famous actors and he picks that deep, lustful voice to use on me. The stupid me is even continuing with this role play by muttering, “N-N-No. Don’t.”

“You know you want to be punished.” I can feel him leaning towards me, about to kiss me somewhere, and I think that I’m about to lose my first kiss to a man slut. That thought immediately makes me knee Hoseok in the abdomen, causing him to loosen me and groan. “Jesus. Fuck,” he curses while curling into a ball. “What the fu.ck was that for, Gemma?”

As I sit properly, I flick my hair over my shoulder and respond, “Self-defense 101. Who knew watching related videos on Youtube would be so handy?”

“And this is why you’re single,” he mumbles not quietly enough for himself to hear.

“Explain away, Hoseok. Show me the money.” I curl my hand to urge him to speak faster.

Giving me an evil eye, he answers, “You’re too uptight and you think too seriously. You need to loosen up your chastity belt and just let things go naturally.”

“I’m not Christian.”

“I know, but you’re like . . . some nun, always so righteous,” he carries on saying. “You have this aura that says ‘if you have sex with me, you need to marry me and never, ever cheat on me because if you do, I’ll burn your balls off.’”

I just blink a few times at his sentence and let my mouth open. “That . . . bad? I-I-I thought I was pretty approachable!”

“Approachable my ass. When I first saw you, I thought you were there to throw a knife at me.”

“Oh God.” I cover my mouth in shame. “Tinder isn’t going to save me then. Maybe I should just go buy myself a doll and date him forever.”

Placing a hand on my shoulder, Hoseok reassures me, “It’s not so bad that you have to go get yourself a doll to marry. It’s . . . just that . . .”

“That?”

“You might need to work on the first impression you give on people.”

My mind is spinning so fast that I’m not even filtering what comes out from my mouth. “Is this why Bogum wouldn’t date me? Am I that ugly? Is my personality that terrible? Is this why I can’t even get a fling? I want a fling, you know? Even if the guy is a loser, at least I’ve—“

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Hold your horses,” Hoseok interjects. “Don’t go into some black hole now. You’re going to be okay.”

“You already said that I looked like I was going to throw a knife at you. How am I supposed to be okay now? Maybe I should go on Dr. Phil or Oprah. They can have an episode called Born with a Resting Bitch Face Issues.” Even when I’m panicking like this, Hoseok still manages to crack a laugh which increases my anxiety. “How can you laugh I’m being so serious?”

“That’s one of your charms too.” He gently rubs the top of my head. “You’re so serious that you’re cute.”

I frown at him and argue, “You’re making a contradiction here, and cute? How can I be described as cute? Puppies are cute. Strawberry shortcakes are cute. Babies are cute. Hamsters are cute. Cute . . . oh dear.” I let out a desperate sigh. “I’m never going to be able to get a boyfriend to make Bogum regret that he chose my sister rather than me.”

“Oh . . .” Hoseok now scratches the bottom of his chin. “So this wanting to get a boyfriend is really for your pride and to show off in front of your sister.”

“Can you not put it that way?” I huff and sit cross-legged on the sofa.

Hoseok ignores me like the douche bag he is and snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he states.

“Got what?”

“I’ve got the perfect plan to make you a real ‘Gem’.” He starts laughing at his own joke, making me confirm his pathetic attitude. “Aren’t I funny, Gemma? You get it? Making you a gem like those stones—“

“Just cut to the chase, Hoseok, before I really throw something at you.”

“Okay, okay, Batman. Here’s the plan.”

He beckons me to lend my ear to him, and so with much unwillingness, I obey him. After hearing what he has to offer, I do throw something at him. I fling my hand across his face to give him a loud slap followed by a firm statement: “No.” 


	3. Another Twisted Turn

Sunday morning is when I’m supposed to sleep in and forget all the problems in my life. Once I get up, I usually start off the day by watching an episode of _Murdoch Mysteries, Dateline or 48 Hours_ while munching on some fruit and oatmeal. I’ve been getting into the habit of eating clean ever since Hoseok started to pinch my belly fat and chant, “So fat. So much oil that you can use to make fries.” He even patted my tummy several times to see how the echo was. God damn! Actually, I don’t want to think about him right now. After what he told me last night, I made him go home earlier and told him that I didn’t want to talk to him or see his face for a while.

I’m in my zen mode, about to eat that slice of apple when my cell phone starts ringing. “Hello?” I grumble.

“Gem Gem it’s me!”

That “it’s me” tone nearly deafens me thanks to Irene’s high pitched voice which all men seem to adore and find irresistible. She once even told me that they love to hear her orgasm because she sounds exactly like the women in those porn videos. Now every time I hear her voice, I can’t help but have this image of her naked in my head. That . . . is not a good image to have, especially when it’s your own sister.

“What do you want now?” I yap after taking a bite of my apple.

Irene states, “Bogum said that you should join us for brunch with Mom, and I thought it’d be a great idea too! We haven’t seen you in ages, and you always say that you don’t have time for family dinners because of work. Bogum kept saying that he hasn’t seen you for a long time either. Wouldn’t it be nice to catch up?”

Catch up . . . huh. Do I really want to hear how Bogum and my sister got together? No, well, kind of, but mostly not really. Do I want to see his face now that I know he is engaged to her? Not very much so. Do I miss seeing his lovely face? Yes. Am I ready to show him that he’s missing out because he didn’t date me? Definitely not. Will I be screwed if I ignore my parents? Yes. If I lie about work, will they forgive me? Yes.

“I’d love to go, but—“

“Gemma, it’s Mom’s treat.”

If I don’t have to pay, then of course I’ll go. I’ve been trying to pay off my student loans and been saving here and there. Even though I work in a decent firm, when you add up all the hours that I’m billing in, I’m actually working just slightly above minimum wage. Let’s also just put in the fact that I go on shopping sprees when I’m stressed. It’s awful, I know, so whenever someone says that he or she will buy me a meal, I’m more than happy to join, but . . .

“Irene, I’m really just so—“

“Bogum says he misses you,” Irene interrupts.

Bogum misses me! He never cracks a smile or even says anything emotional, yet he admitted that he missed me. My heart is screaming in joy, and my smile can’t grow wider. I’m throwing happy punches in the air and jumping up and down until I hear a familiar voice croak, “So this is what you’re like when you're in love.”

I shriek and nearly slip and fall on my butt, “Holy Mother—“     

“Gem Gem, what happened?” Irene wonders.

I see Hoseok waving at me with both his hands casually as if his being here isn’t freaky at all. “I-I-I . . . just saw a really . . . really hairy spider.” Then, I mouth silently to Hoseok, “What are you doing here?”

I only manage to make one of the worst lies ever, but luckily, Irene, who suffers from arachnophobia, buys my lie. “Oh my goodness! That is super gross,” she comments.

Hoseok answers me, “I just told the building manager that you had a fight with your boyfriend and threw him out. The building manager let me in the apartment, and you also gave me a copy of your key because you were scared you’d lose or forget your key one day.”

The building manager is an old woman in her seventies who lost her husband five years ago and is crazy for any decent looking guy. I’m pretty sure Hoseok charmed his way through, and as for me handing him my key, it was really because I freaked out when I thought I lost my purse. In reality, it was on the stove for several hours.

Before I can even react to Hoseok, Irene chimes in, “So you’re coming to brunch right?”

Now that Hoseok is here, I really want to escape, so I agree, “Of course I’ll go. Just forward me the restaurant and the time. I’ll be there asap.”

“Perfect! Just wait till I let Bogum know the good news! He’d be so happy!”

“Okay. Sounds good,” I reply. “Bye.”

“Tata for now!”

As soon as this phone call ends, I focus my attention to Hoseok who is acting like nothing happened and is watching the news. I march over to him and shut the TV off.

“Hey!” he complains. “They were talking about the latest crisis.”

“Now is not the time to act like you want to be informed about the world.” I plant both of my hands on my waist and lecture, “Didn’t I say that I didn’t want to see you for a while?”

“For God’s sake, Gem, you can’t be mad at me for my brilliant plans,” he argues.

“Yes, you provided very brilliant choices: dating the one ex of Irene’s that dumped her first, hiring a male escort to act as my boyfriend, having an affair with Bogum, or dating your lame cousin Namjoon,” I conclude.

“You missed the last two,” Hoseok notifies me, “and Namjoon is far from being lame. He’s a cool cat with confused furniture choices.”

Yeah . . . modern, minimalistic furniture with tons of Ryan stuffed toys at his place. He’s definitely one confused cat.

“Which are?” I ask.

“Jesus Christ, Gem, can you be even more cold-blooded than this?”

“Stop being a drama queen now,” I snap.

“All right.” With excessive blinking reminding me of Puss from Shrek, Hoseok suggests, “You also forgot about me.” He points to his heart and utters, “I can go seduce Irene or . . . I can be your fake boyfriend!”

“No and no,” I instantly reply. “I don’t want you sleeping with my sister. That’ll make me puke and I’ll make sure to do it on your face.”

“I’m pretty sure Bogum has already had sex with your—“

“Please do not taint Bogum’s—“

“Your image of Bogum. Heck, they might even play S & M. Maybe Bogum is the one that likes to be punished. Wacha!” Hoseok childishly imitates the sound of a whip cracking on his thigh. Once I glower at him, he mumbles, “If you and Irene don’t get along so well, then what’s wrong with me going after her? Irene may be a bitch but she is still pretty hot.”

“Okay. Let’s just not go there,” I utter. “I don’t want my mom to hate me to death and have all my relatives curse me.”

“Well they wouldn’t even know that you had this plan. Irene would look bad for leaving Bogum, and you’d be able to comfort Bogum and win over his heart.”

I think through his suggestion and can only come to this conclusion: “You’re really a jackass.”

“But?”

“After you’ve explained it again, I think it might just work, but . . .”

“What now?”

“After you get Irene to fall for you, what are you going to do next?” I ponder.

“I haven’t thought that far yet actually. We’ll see how it goes? Maybe I’ll marry her.” He even has the audacity to wink and smile at me. He’s doing those moves that he executes to girls at the bar when he just wants to sleep with them for a night. Yuck.

Immediately, I counter, “God no. Don’t marry her. She’ll drive you crazy.”

Irene is the vixen that charms all men with her large, round eyes, long straight hair, and perfectly tanned skin. She has that sexy charm stamped all over her face and a voice that makes all men sink to their knees. Her body has just the right curves with a perky butt, round breasts, and a thin waist. Not to mention, she is at least ten centimetres taller than me, making anything that goes on her body look good while most clothes that I wear emphasize my shorter height. Sometimes I really think I’m the one that got adopted. Even my mom is very beautiful, whereas I’m stuck looking like a teenager.

Though Irene has won the genetic lottery for her appearance, she has always had trouble staying in a relationship. She ends up becoming too controlling and sensitive. Plus, her materialism and jealousy make a guy go insane. Every year, she has to get a present that is more expensive than the previous year, and the gift cannot be worse than the items that her friends have. She has to have all her boyfriend’s passwords and if she calls, he must answer immediately or else she will suspect him of cheating on her. If she doesn’t get what she wants, she will get into a fight with you or will manipulate the situation so that she wins. Although she claims that she ends every relationship, every ex of hers has always been more than happy to leave her.

The stupid Hoseok doesn’t seem to believe me because he even winks and claims, “Crazy in bed maybe. Hehe.”

It’s like moments like these that make me wonder why we’re even friends.

 

Since I’m going along with Hoseok’s plan, I bring him with me to brunch. The sooner he meets Irene properly, the better right? It’s not as if Irene doesn’t know who he is. Actually, it’s rare that people don’t recognize him in town if they’re in tune with business affairs, particularly in the restaurant and real estate segments. Hoseok’s family assets rank to one of the top fifty richest in Korea. They started off as a luxury baker and sweets maker house back in the early 1900s with European influences until they expanded throughout the country and moved to high class restaurants as well as real estate. His ancestors were smart enough to buy and develop land to increase their assets and his family seems to be close to the country’s biggest conglomerate.

Though many people know of the prominence of Hoseok’s family name, I swear that when I met him, I thought he was just a normal guy who had better looks than usual. I really just saw him as a glass vase with red roses stuffed inside. Irene was actually the one that had wanted to get closer to him but only managed to snag Namjoon, the cousin who is still part of the family but whose father is only one of the Vice Presidents for their real estate company. Meanwhile, Hoseok’s father is the CEO of the restaurants and bakeries.

I’m absolutely positive that Irene will start beaming her million dollar smile at Hoseok once she sees him. When Hoseok and I arrive at the restaurant, Irene takes two seconds to gasp before going into her fake mode. “Oh look who we have here!” She pretends to act dumb. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Jung Hoseok,” Hoseok introduces himself and politely shakes Irene’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Irene, Gemma’s older sister. This is Bogum, my fiancé. Beside him is my mother,” Irene explains.

Bogum still looks very handsome and cool. His style is completely different from Hoseok’s. Bogum is more of the quiet nerd with few words to say while Hoseok is the one that parties hard and studies last minute but still achieves fine grades. Heck, Hoseok even took up dancing as a hobby and became well-known underground for his dancing skills. Bogum, on the other hand, was known for his perfect SAT scores and everyone wanted his notes. Bogum is still wearing his black framed glasses that I gave for his birthday a few years ago. His short black hair is slightly curled, and he is finishing his look with a navy cardigan and a plaid button-up shirt. Meanwhile Hoseok has a very deep V knit sweater that reveals his man cleavage and a pair of black jeans. Can’t he just dress normally? He’s being more seductive than me.

I now look to my mom who questions Hoseok with the most suspicious look: “You are . . . Gemma’s boyfriend?”

“We’re just good friends,” Hoseok clarifies before taking the seat across from my mother. “Gemma told me that Irene just got engaged to Bogum, and Gemma thought it’d be a great idea for me to help out with the catering and the venue.”

“How?”

My mom sternly gawks at him. I know my mom doesn’t believe in Hoseok’s lie; she knows my relationship with my sister and would know that I’d stay far away from wedding planning for Irene. Irene would be too picky that I’d have to shout at her to get her to commit to one decision. Moreover, my mom doesn’t trust men who look better than average because my father was very handsome and became very unfaithful. My mom used to say she didn’t mind unless he supported the family, yet when he lost his job, he decided to continue his affairs. After several years of this habit of his, my mother decided to have a divorce. At that time, I was in eighth grade while Irene was in her senior year of high school. Ever since the divorce, my mom has always been sceptical of good-looking men as she believes they will all lie and cheat. Good luck Hoseok at winning over my mom.   

“I’m actually in the restaurant business,” Hoseok adds, “and I have quite a few friends working at nice hotels so I’m sure I can help out somehow.”

“Why that’s very kind of you, Hoseok,” Irene utters. “I’m sure that we’d need—“

“We don’t need your help,” my mom interrupts.

“Mom, don’t be so rude!” Irene retorts while I’m secretly snickering in my head. “Gemma and Hoseok are just offering to help.”

“Is that true Gemma?” My mom ogles at me like a tiger who has been famished for a week.

I just gulp and try my best to look her in the eye: “Y-Yes.” I take a gulp of ice water and then proceed to change the topic, “So um, sis, how did you and Bogum meet? I would have never expected you two to get together.”

In a very cheerful voice, Irene replies while clinging onto Bogum’s arm, “I was off to vacation in the US, and I remembered that Bogummie was in town.”

I immediately choke on the water that I’m about to chug down my throat as soon as I hear the word “Bogummie”. Bogum hates being called “Bogummie” or “BoBo”. I remember when I tried to give him a nickname, and he instantly told me to stop. He didn’t want to sound like some doll. He even threatened not to talk to me again if I were to call him anything like that in quite a passive aggressive manner. You know that type that smiles while giving you some warning with perfect grammar? Yup, that’s him.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks and pats my back.

After wiping my mouth dry with a napkin, I answer, “Yeah I’m fine. Sorry about that.”

“Oh Gem Gem, you haven’t changed at all! You still can’t drink water properly,” Irene teases me. “I remember that you’d often have water running down from the side of your mouth and you were already what? Sixteen then?”

Hoseok rapidly sits upright and eagerly confirms, “Really? That’s hilarious!”

“You’ve never seen that happen before?” Irene checks with him.

“No . . . oh wait . . .yes, actually!” Hoseok snickers before glimpsing at me with the corner of his eyes. “Now I get why Gem sometimes has the front of her shirt wet. Hahaha!”

“Yeah! We should get her bib,” Irene continues to tease.

I try to tell myself to keep calm and to just breathe in and out. I haven’t spilled anything on myself yet. They’re just talking about my past, yet . . . when Bogum is sitting across the table, I just wish that I can dig myself a hole to crawl into. I’m sure Bogum has seen me spill things on myself, but he would never mention them to me in person. He knows how embarrassed I’d get, and sure, my cheeks are red and Irene just makes things worse.

“Aw, Gem Gem, you don’t have to be so shy!” Irene states. “You’re so cute this way! Lots of guys like clumsy girls. Isn’t that right, BoBo?” Irene turns to Bogum for some added ammunition to make me look like a fool. Bogum, being the gentleman he is, just smiles politely.

My mom now huffs a long sigh and her lips slant to the right, marking her infamous disappointed look. “No man is going to marry you if you’re this clumsy, Gemma Fan. I am not surprised that you have not even dated yet. You need to lower your standards, Gemma. Just pick someone with a steady income and is willing to support a family.”

Now you see why I don’t like family dinners? Every time, my mom takes me back to the topic of marrying a man who can provide for a family and reminds me that I’m pathetically single. Every time, I have Irene mocking me in some way with everyone siding with her. It’s totally unfair. I’m already working really hard with my job; of course I don’t have time to meet decent people. My standards aren’t high as well. I just have bad luck with men; they all either want to date my sister or they are weird creeps. There was the one guy who told me that he wouldn’t date a virgin but if I were to have more experience, then he’d consider me. Another guy wanted me to dress up in my high school uniform when we were on dates.

“I think . . .” I all of a sudden hear Hoseok talk. Staring at me gently, he continues to state, “I think Gemma may be clumsy, but she is very hardworking and smart. I really admire her commitment to her work, and I’m sure she will find someone that suits her.”

What? He’s complimenting me? Is he being serious . .  or just trolling me?

“Aw,” Irene clasps her hands together. “Why isn’t that cute? Is that a confession to Gem Gem, Hoseok?”

Hoseok just laughs. “Haha.”

“Oh Gem Gem, you’ve been lying to me all these years then! You’ve got a great guy here!” Irene chimes. “Gem Gem, you and Hoseok should totally date. I approve completely.”

“Hoseok,” Bogum at last voices his opinion. “Do you actually like Gemma?”

“Hold on here,” I butt in, trying to divert the subject. I’m pretty sure Hoseok is just joking around. “We’re here for brunch right? Let’s order some food before—“

“Of course I like her,” Hoseok nonchalantly answers, leaving me completely flabbergasted. What in the world is he doing? This wasn’t part of our plan. He’s supposed to confess his love to Irene and not to me. What is he even . . . thinking? Even if he’s joking, he’s taking it too far!

Bogum progresses forward with the set of questions: “Enough to marry her? How did you two meet? Gemma, do you also like Hoseok?”

“Gemma would be wonderful as a wife,” Hoseok replies. “We met because of my cousin. He introduced us to each other. As for your last question, I think the answer is yes. I’m pretty sure Gemma likes me too. She’s just in denial, and I thought I’d leave her in that state until she realized her feelings for me. But . . .” He even has the guts to make eye contact with me. That darn Hoseok! He has always been awful at acting, yet now he is able to say these lines. Just what is he doing? “But . . . I’m kind of tired of waiting,” he concludes.

“How long have you waited?” Bogum wonders.

“Mm.” Hoseok places a finger to his lips to think. “Let me count now. I met her in my second year of undergrad . . . so around seven to eight years now?”

At this time, before Bogum can continue his investigation, the waitress comes to us and asks, “Would you guys like to order anything now? I can give you some recommendations if you’d like.”

“Please!” I demand. “Please recommend us something!”

“O-O-Oh . . . okay.”

The waitress eyes me awkwardly, but I ignore her. She starts blabbing about the latest menu changes, and I just tune out. I just need someone to stop this conversation before my own grave is dug. I can’t believe the lies that Hoseok is spewing. Saying that he has liked me for five years now? How disgusting is that? How impossible is that anyways? He has been sleeping around all these years. Seriously, he needs to lie better and stop messing around with me. He has to get Irene to love him and hand Bogum to me, and not make Bogum support my romance with him!

“And what would you like to order?” the waitress now questions me. I’m just looking at her, speechless. I haven’t been listening at all, and my menu is obviously closed.

“Uh . . .” I mutter.

“She’ll get the waffles with fried chicken,” Hoseok answers for me.

“She doesn’t like fried chicken,” Bogum warns.

“I never said she was going to eat it,” Hoseok explains. “She’ll have the waffles and have some of my omelette. I’ll eat the fried chicken for her.”

“Miss,” Bogum ignores Hoseok’s statement and suggest to the waitress, “please change her order to salmon and sunny side up eggs with the hash brown. Instead of bacon, replace it with the green salad. No dressing please.” Then, he lectures Hoseok, “Gemma got really sick once after eating a huge omelette, so she usually stays away from that order.”

I’m actually surprised that Bogum even remembers that time when I kept repeating how much I felt like throwing up after finishing my omelette and a portion of my mom’s. She didn’t want to eat so much since she was dieting, yet she didn’t want to waste food. Irene was too full, so I was the one in charge of finishing the leftovers. Bogum was eating with us at the time and helped me eat the remaining portion with no complaints.

“Thanks Bogum,” I say.

“You’re welcome, Gemma.”

As I’m fawning over Bogum’s cute smile, I feel Hoseok pinch my waist, causing me to twitch. “Is something wrong?” Irene asks.

“Oh no,” I lie. “I’m totally fine now.”

“You didn’t answer Bogummie’s question though! Do you like Hoseok or not?” Irene fires away.

I really feel like someone has just thrown a huge cannon ball at my ship and it gets hit right at the centre. Everyone on my crew is screaming to bail the ship, but my foot has been caught onto some rope. I’m going to drown. Yes, I think I’m drowning to my death because I have all eyes on me now. Everyone is waiting for me to say yes or no, yet I have no idea what I should say.

I’m just waiting for my ship to sink like Titanic, except I have no Jack to call out for. Fuck my life.


	4. Little Sister

Usually when people use the washroom, it's for two things: doing the number one or pushing out that number two. For me, I have a number three and that's to think about life and its matters. In this case, I'm thinking about the dreaded answer I have to give to my family and Bogum. To like Hoseok or not to like him romantically?

What was he thinking by saying that he likes me and for seven to eight years? Is he out of his mind? I can't even tell if he is lying or saying the truth. There's no way that he would actually be in love with me. I mean, he has been playing around with all these women and forcing me to clean up his breakup disasters. If he really liked me, then he would have all his attention on me! So now that I have concluded that he doesn't actually like me romantically, then why is he making up that lie? What would I benefit from that? How am I even going to answer that question about what I think of Hoseok?

All right, I know it's lame that I escaped by making up an excuse that I have a huge stomach ache, but I was really distressed. I needed a safe haven, and the only place in a restaurant would be at a washroom. Fortunately, this little fancy brunch place my sister found only has two washrooms for the whole restaurant, meaning that no one can disturb me when I have locked myself in one stall. Now I'm just sitting on top of the toilet cover which I have first disinfected with some soap and toilet paper, and I'm contemplating. Even when I hear someone knocking on the door, I just tell them to scram because I'm busy. It's the fourth time that someone has knocked, and my patience is wearing.

"Didn't I tell you already? This is—"

"Gemma," I hear Hoseok's distinctive voice. "Open up."

"No," I bellow. "I'm not going out there to look like a fool, and it's all your fault!"

"Just open up and I'll explain."

"No! I don't want to hear it!" I yell. "You've screwed me over enough for one day! Can't you just leave me alone?"

"So you're really going to just sit on top of a toilet for the whole day? You're in denial, Gemma," he tells me.

"I really would prefer to stay here," I mumble and hug my knees.

"Come on. It's not that bad," he assures me. "Just open up and I'll tell you my plan. I'll make sure that Bogum falls for you."

"I don't trust you."

"I'll buy your every meal." At the sound of free lunch and dinners, I sprint to the door and unlock it. Hoseok pulls the door open before me and chimes, "I can actually see why you'd stay here. It's not bad actually with those fancy fountains and oh wow, a super high tech Japanese toilet!" He marches over to the toilet and pets the cover of the basin. "Man, I just love it when those toilets warm up your seat on a cold winter day and you know that you can get—"

"Okay I'm not here to hear your weird fascination with these odd inventions," I remind him. Hoseok likes to know the latest gadgets and the more bizarre an item is, the more intrigued he becomes. His favourite book is something called the _World's Craziest Inventions_ that in my own mind wastes someone's time and money. He, on the other hand, swears that even incremental efficiencies should be acknowledged. I'm sure he believes in aliens too.

"Sorry." He scratches the back of his head and shyly grins. "I just get so excited when I see a high class toilet and beautiful washrooms. That's why I just crash at one of our president suites at this hotel my dad helped build. The owners are actually good friends with us and left us one of the best suites there. Of course it's much easier to—" I cough at him to make sure that he gets my message. "Oh right." His hands clap twice before he makes his glorious announcement: "So after improvising back at the table—"

"Improvising? What the hell, Hoseok? Why can't you just—"

"Look." He wags his irksome diva finger at me. God I really want to punch his face now, so I'm clenching my fists hard. "I had to, but it's going to be all right. I have it all figured out." He now raises that index finger in the air like he is singing a super high night on American Idol.

"And?"

"You and I are going to pretend that we're dating, and then I'll be an awful boyfriend to you," he explains. "Bogum will pity you and take sides with you. Meanwhile, Irene will have the hots for me."

"And why will she magically fall for you?"

"Because I'm charming." He looks to the side, pretends to flick his bangs, and then models a contemplative position.

"No seriously."

"Fine. Fine. That was just a joke," he utters. "She'll fall for me because she's the type of girl that can't take a guy's rejection. As long as I'm interested in you, she'll be into me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"That your sister likes to take what you like."

"Oh really? Now why the heck would she do that? She already has all the guys in her little farm pen from so many different ethnicities. Look at that diversity!"

"Don't ask me the why. I just know that she likes to win you because she even changed her order to yours and my gut is telling me this. You know how awesome my intuition is."

True. Hoseok is like a little psychic. He often gets this little premonitions such as a car crash that will happen the next block or a common friend of ours getting cheated on. Maybe I really should trust him.

"So . . . you're thinking that she only likes Bogum because I like Bogum?"

"Yes."

"And so if I act like I like you, then she'll give up Bogum?"

"Precisely. Good girl, Gem. Now give me a high-five!"

"I'm not your dog, Hoseok."

"Ha."

"Now I . . . get out there and . . .?"

"And act like you're in love with me. Come on! Come into your Papa's arms now!" His arms widen in hopes of catching me into his embrace.

"I think I need some hard liquor," I shake my head and grumble. "This is crazy. You're crazy, and I'm crazy."

"No!" he objects. "I think this is perfect! I haven't had so much fun in ages."

Somehow I feel like I'm just a rat in Hoseok's laboratory, waiting to go through a series of tests he has for me. He probably has some notebook documenting all of my reactions and the consequences of his actions. He is set out to prove some hypothesis, which I have no idea what that can be. Regardless, Hoseok is determined to see what will happen to me. I really have a bad feeling about this, but I don't have much of a choice.

When I come out of the washroom, Irene acts like I just suffered a stroke: "Gem Baby, what ever happened to you? You were in there for a long time. We thought you were a goner."

"I uh . . . just think I ate something bad this morning," I lie and take my seat once more.

I hear a tsk coming from my mother who eventually adds, "You should know better Gemma Fan. You knew that we were here for brunch so of course you shouldn't have had breakfast. You always like to eat too much. I'm pretty sure you gained weight."

"Well Gemma," Hoseok changes the topic while settling beside me, "isn't there something you'd like to share? Some wonderful news?"

Way to throw me to the chopping board, I think. I feel all eyes on me, and I want to throw up again. Knowing that I can't hide forever, I reluctantly admit, "Hoseok and I . . . we're . . ."

"We're officially dating," Hoseok claims and places his arm around my shoulders. "We were just debating if we wanted to announce things so quickly and finally decided that it was fine to let you guys know now."

"Wow!" Irene cheers. "This is so adorable! Now we can all go on double dates!"

"Aha," I murmur.

"Gem and I can definitely help out with your wedding plan!" Hoseok proposes.

"That would be wonderful. We need all the help that—"

"Gemma Fan." My mother now disregards everyone else and concentrates on glaring at me. "You should have told me that you were dating beforehand."

I mumble, "Hoseok and I weren't that sure of our relationship—"

"So you two are not in a serious relationship?" she questions.

Hoseok pulls me closer to him and explains, "What Gemma means is that she wasn't sure if she really wanted to be in a relationship with me. She was scared to commit at first, but now she's okay. I've always treated our relationship as a serious one."

"And why do you even like Gemma?" My mother tosses another hard ball question at Hoseok.

However, Hoseok seems unfazed and answers confidently, "She's funny, reliable, and hardworking. Sure she can drive me crazy sometimes, but I know she means well. She helps keep me grounded."

He really stares at me as if he were actually in love with me, which makes me blush. Hearing all these compliments come from him is really a rare event. He usually comments about my dorkiness and slowness. He also always emphasizes my shortness. The best compliment he ever gave me was how my cheeks reminded him of a tasty peach that he could probably bite away, and of course, I just scolded him that it was uncool to be a cannibal. Oh, there was that other compliment; he said I was as efficient as his laptop with some high class processor and memory size.

I can tell that my mother is about to ask another intense question, but luckily, the waitress comes with our orders. As soon as I receive my plate, I quickly comment, "Wow! This looks great! Let me take a photo of it first." Hoseok decides to play a prank on me and sticks in a peace sign right when I snap the picture with my phone. "Hey!" I bark while Hoseok just laughs.

When his prank repeats a second time, Bogum cautions, "Just let her take her photo, so she can eat."

"Exactly," I add and smile at Bogum who only nods back at me. Bogum really doesn't smile often at all, but when he does, I always feel like I just won the lottery.

After I finally get a nice shot of my plate of food, Hoseok all of a sudden hands me some of his omelette and vegetables to the side by placing them next to my salmon. "Have some," he remarks. "It should taste good."

"Oh thanks," I murmur.

I'm finding it a bit odd that Hoseok is acting so nice to me. If it were before, he would never offer to share his food; he thinks it is gross to share anything edible or drinkable but is perfectly okay spreading his germs through kissing other women. In fact, if I really wanted to try his food, he would purposely try to spoon feed me but before his utensil hits my tongue, he will slip everything in his mouth. Then, he will tell me that he is trying to keep me from eating too much so that I will lose a few pounds. All while he is telling me that, he will try his hardest not to laugh till his abs hurt.

"Would anyone else like to try some of my omelette?" Hoseok wonders. Everyone else politely thanks him and then declines his offer. You'd think there'd be some pause in between our conversations, yet Hoseok just likes to chatter. "You know . . . Bogum, since you asked me all those questions, I thought it'd be fair for me to ask you one or two if that's all right with you?"

"Fair enough," Bogum cuts through his eggs benedict and answers.

"How did you know that Irene was the woman that you wanted to marry?" Hoseok ponders.

Bogum takes a minute to think of his answer before replying in a cold voice, "I just knew."

"So it was love at first sight then?" Hoseok verifies.

"I don't believe in love at first sight," Bogum notes.

Hoseok inquires, "Okay . . . so Irene must have did something to win over your heart?"

Again, Bogum doesn't give away much by answering, "Yes."

"I'm actually kind of surprised that you and Gemma didn't date before," Hoseok utters.

I nudge Hoseok with my elbow and interrupt, "You're making things really awkward, Hoseok. Bogum and I have known each other for so many years—"

"Gemma is like my little sister," Bogum cuts me off. "She's very dear to me."

I really want to run to the washroom again and lock myself there. I've already heard of this answer several times before in the past and I've hinted so many times before about my feelings for Bogum. However, he would courteously reject me or pretend to act dumb. Every time, he would pat me softly on the head as his way of comforting my broken heart.

_Bogum, you don't have a date to the prom right? Why don't you take me instead? I want to see what it's like too!_

_Gemma, that wouldn't be fun for you. You wouldn't be comfortable around my friends, and you'd ruin your own experience in the future by going to my prom. It isn't right to take my little sister to the prom._

_So Bogum there's this guy that I might have a crush on._

_Good for you. I hope he likes you back._

_Bogum, Bogum, do you want something for Valentine's Day? I'm feeling really generous this year!_

_No, it's fine. You should give it to someone you really like._

_What if I want to give it to . . . just you?_

_You're such a nice younger sister._

_Do you have to go to the UK? Can't you just stay here?_

_I have to, Gemma. It's always been my dream to go there._

_W-W-W-Won't you miss me?_

_Of course I'll miss you. You're my dear little sister. Just email me if you want to talk._

Younger or little sister . . . I'm always stuck with this label. I've always been chasing after Bogum and my sister who are both the same age and have been trying my utmost to grow up. As soon as I entered university, I learned how to do makeup through Youtube and magazines. I focused a lot on dressing to fit my figure and would work out every day to try to get an S-line figure. I studied till I nearly fainted to get into the top law school and have high grades. I did finally enter a big firm. However, all of my hard work seemed to have gone to waste now. Bogum still . . . saw me as a little sister. Hadn't he seen that I had changed all these years?

"Gem Gem," Irene unexpectedly states. "You look awful. Are you sure you're okay? Is your stomach still hurting?"

I want to say that I'm okay, but I know that if I stay here longer, I'll end up crying my eyes out. My mom will threaten me not to make a scene out in public. Irene will keep urging me to go to the hospital while trying to fish out what the real problem is though I'm sure she knows. Nearly all of my friends knew about how I felt about Bogum. Bogum will just blankly gawk at me, unsure of how to calm me down or comfort me. Hoseok . . . he will . . .

"I'm so sorry," Hoseok voices while tugging my arm to get me to stand up. "I think Gemma really is feeling sick, so I'll take her to see the doctor now. Sorry for leaving like this. I'll be sure to treat you guys another time. Sorry." Once we get into Hoseok's car, Hoseok remarks, "You really like him huh?" Because I don't answer him, he continues to talk, "I'm . . . sorry. I was just trying to understand the situation better."

"It's fine," I mumble and stare out the window.

"Because he really thinks that you're like a little sister, I think—"

"Hoseok, I don't want to talk about it right now. Just give me some alone time and please send me home."

"All right."

I just close my eyes and force myself to take a short nap. When I wake up, everything should be fine again. Even when my eyes are shut, I still see Bogum's stoic face and I can hear his calm voice.

_Gemma, I'll always be by your side like a brother._

Then, I feel a tear slowly slither down my right cheek. I guess some things just don't change over time.

 


	5. Beached Mermaid

A long time ago, probably when I was four or five, my mother told me never to fall asleep in the car because if there is an accident, you wouldn’t know how to behave. I should have listened to her advice this time because when I woke up from my nap, I honestly felt like I had experienced an accident. First, Hoseok unkindly shakes me awake, making me gasp for air. Then, he forces me out of the car when it’s super windy. Now, I look around and I’m at some parking lot of a beach? I notice the waves crashing against the cliff ahead of us.

“Where in the world are we?” My voice cracks after letting it rest for too long.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he snickers and rests his hands on his waist.

“Let me rephrase then,” I grumble at him. “Why are we even here? I’m supposed to be home and warm!”

“Aw, you’re cold?” Hoseok smiles coyly at me, cocking his head to the side like a curious German Shepard listening to his owner talk. “I can always keep you warm!” He winks at me and extends his arms towards me. “Come here, come here,” he coaxes, “and I’ll warm your heart too.”

“Oh god.” I roll my eyes and make a gagging motion. “Can you not make me want to throw up?”

“I’ll lend you my jacket,” he suggests. “I just need to get it in the trunk.”

“You mean your trench coat?” I wonder.

“Yeah. That.”

“It’d be too big on me,” I tell him. “I tried it on once, remember?”

Hoseok glances up for a few seconds before the memory clicks. “Oh right! Hahaha! You tripped over my jacket and fell on your face.” After hearing me heave a hefty sigh, Hoseok pats me on the back. “Don’t be so mad. You’ll get unnecessary wrinkles. Don’t want to ruin that baby face of yours now!”

He purposely pokes my cheek once and I push his finger away. “Don’t do that,” I murmur.

“I know you’re still upset,” Hoseok comments, “but don’t worry. Let’s do something fun.”

“Like? It’s not exactly beach season when it’s October,” I remark.

All of a sudden, Hoseok taps my arm and shouts, “Tag! You’re it!” As he sprints off, he yells, “If you catch me, I’ll grant you one wish.”

“Hey!” I bellow. “You can’t be . . .” I cut my own sentence off when I realize that he is being serious. He is seriously running down the long, white wooden stairs to the beach. He is honestly out of his mind, but what am I supposed to do when he is my only ride back? “Ugh.” I huff a disgruntled breath. “Time to work out, I guess,” I mumble to myself.

When my feet land on the first step of the stairs, Hoseok is several feet away. He waves at me frantically, roaring, “Come at me! Hurry, slow poke! What are you? A snail? A loser?”

“What did you call me?” I screech.

Hoseok makes a “L” with his thumb and index finger, causing me to grow furious. I hate it whenever someone says I’m a loser. I’ve always been in that role for love. I can’t stand losing, and when someone unworthy like Hoseok calls me that . . . Argh! I start sprinting all my might towards him. I don’t care if my lungs are burning, my heart is pounding too fiercely, and my body is sweating crazily. All I care about is catching that annoying brat! When I’m about to touch him, Hoseok begins to dash the other way. Damn it! I was so close, and I almost lose my balance. After all, running in sand isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, especially when I’m wearing wedges. All right, I decide. The gloves are off. I take a few minutes to take off my shoes and toss them far away from the waves.

“Hurry! You’re so fucking slow!” Hoseok jeers and even purposely runs back to my direction.

Again, when I get close to him, Hoseok bolts off. At this rate, I’m not going to win. I can play dirty, but I don’t feel like winning using a cheap way. If Hoseok has speed, then I have endurance. I’m sure I can beat him in persistence. We spend at least twenty minutes running all over the beach, and the embarrassing part is that when an elderly couple walks past us, they comment, “It’s great being young, isn’t it? There’s so much energy and love.” I really feel like melting to the ground at that point. We’re probably acting like the couple from the Notebook, in particular that scene where the girl is pretending to fly. This is so cheesy.

I should really give up, but Hoseok comes and taps my shoulder once. “You’re not seriously going to lose, are you?”

He ignites the fire in my anger so much so that I tackle him. My attack forces him to land on the sand hard. “Ha!” I declare. “I win!” As I try to wiggle from his grasp, I suddenly realize that his arms are wrapped tightly around me. He was cushioning me from the fall, letting my head rest on his chest. His body is burning from all that running. I can even hear his heart pumping too loudly. “Hos—“

“I know,” he interrupts me. “I know you did your best. You always do. You never give up even when things get tough, so don’t give up now.” I find the tears streaming down my cheeks once more. It’s funny how Hoseok manages to say the words that I’ve always wanted to hear. My arms clench harder around Hoseok as I bury my face in his chest. I don’t care if my makeup is ruined. I don’t even care if my foundation will get on his sweater, and he, for once, isn’t pushing me away for getting unnecessary sparkles or foundation streaks on his shirt. He just lets me do whatever I want and even reminds me, “You know, you still have that wish that I promised to grant.”

“Right . . . but . . .”

“Is there something that you want me to get for you?”

I’m thinking hard, but my mind is drawing a blank. I’m not craving for anything in particular. It’s not even Christmas or my birthday, so it feels really odd asking for some gift. I know, though, that this is a chance of a lifetime. Maybe . . .

“Ha! I know!” I pull myself away from him and kneel beside him. I start tossing sand on him, causing him to panic.

“Gem! What are you—“

“I’m burying you!” I giggle. “You said anything is okay right? Well, I feel like making a mermaid sculpture out of you.”

“I should have just said I’d treat you to dessert,” he murmurs and actually stays still while I keep piling on sand on him.

From time to time, Hoseok shudders as sand gets into his sweater. Serves him right for wearing a deep v sweater! Next time, he should bundle himself up. “Don’t worry,” I jokingly reassure him. “This won’t take long.”

“At this rate, we’re gonna be here all night,” he grunts. “You probably weren’t a dog in your past life given your shitty digging skills.”

“Shut up, Hoseok,” I say.

“Or?”

“Or I’ll bury your whole head in sand.”

That really zip him up. As Hoseok anticipated, I finish my mermaid sculpture using his body when night falls. “Damn it,” I curse. “I left my phone in the car. This is so phone worthy! You’re like little Ariel except you need a wig.” Using my hands, I cup the sand boobs I made from him and proudly announce, “Look at those 34 Hs I made for you.”

“They’re so fu.cking big I can’t even see my tail,” he complains.

“You should be thankful that you don’t really have those in real life,” I tell him. “You’d probably suffer from some back pain.”

“Can I get out now?” he asks. “It’s really uncomfortable like this.”

“No, no, only I can ruin my masterpiece,” I argue.

“Fine. Do it soon.”

“Mm. Where should I even—“

Hoseok obviously doesn’t keep his promise because he emerges from the sand and hurdles onto me. All of the sand on his body lands on me. Some even gets on my face and mouth. As I’m spitting out sand, Hoseok hovers over me and sniggers, “Karma is a bitch.”

“Karma doesn’t work like that! You’re not supposed to take karma in your own hands. That’s called revenge!” I lecture. “Uh, now I really need a shower.”

“I’ve got the perfect plan.”

Before I can refute, Hoseok scoops me up and carries me all the way to the waters. “Wh-Wh-What are you doing?” I holler and kick my legs up and down.

He smiles at me playfully and answers, “We’re going to be taking a bath together!”

I’m shrieking as Hoseok keeps walking deeper into the ocean until he finally tosses me into the icy, cold waters. I definitely did not sign up for some polar bear dip. Is that what it’s called? God I can’t remember. I blame the coldness and the weight of my clothes pulling me down in the water. Luckily, he didn’t throw me in a very deep area of the ocean. I can still swim up a bit to catch my breath. As I struggle to open my eyes when water keeps dripping from my eyelashes, I curse, “Fuck, it’s fucking cold!”

“Don’t you feel alive again?” Hoseok asks.

“Fuck no!” I bark. “You’re crazy . . . and you’re annoying!”

“But you still keep coming back to me,” he teases and purposely inches closer to me.

“More like you keep coming to me! You’re like a tapeworm!” I notify him.

“Tapeworms don’t look as sexy as me,” he corrects me.

“Conceited tapeworm!”

“Come on,” he urges me. “Let’s head back now. You’re gonna catch a cold like this.”

“And you do realize that both of us don’t have an extra set of clothes?” I inform him as I tread in the direction of the sands.

Hoseok doesn’t respond to me until both of us are back on land. “Take off all your clothing now and just wear my trench coat,” he instructs me.

“That’s what perverts do. Wear nothing underneath a trench coat.” I hug my own body, trying to warm myself up.

“No one will know,” he says.

“Right, and what about you then? What are you going to wear?” I ponder.

“I’ll just . . . take off my shirt and my pants off.”

“No, you’re going to get pulled over by the police,” I utter.

“Then . . .”

Hoseok is wearing that mischievous expression where his lips purse together, one of his eyebrows raises slightly, and his eyes squint. “What are you thinking?” I sigh.

“You want to go to a hotel?”

“Huh?”

Huh is right. How did a late brunch land me in a hotel room with my best guy friend? Seriously . . . I swear Hoseok is out of his mind. Oh wait, after all these years, I should really know that he is this unpredictable. I’m not even sure why I always somehow end up listening to him. Maybe . . . I’m a little nuts too.


	6. Practice Kisses

It’s clichéd, but it’s the truth when I’m saying that Hoseok and I manage to find a fancy hotel by the beach within a ten minute drive. Lord behold, this hotel happens to be owned by his family. Wow. What a coincidence, I’m starting to think. Yeah right. I’m pretty sure Hoseok knew that this beach would be close to his family owned hotel and that we would end up having to stay there. I’m starting to think that he might be a mastermind of some sort; however, I don’t think he could plan to throw me in the water. I mean, I was the one that made a sand mermaid out of him, which did lead us into the ocean for his alleged “shower”. So . . . maybe this is just a coincidence, and I’m thinking too much and not trusting fate to work itself through.

To be honest, I don’t really trust fate. I think fate likes to screw my life up. I was thinking about contributing society and making laws for the people, but somehow I’m at a huge corporation doing transactional deals. Not exactly humanitarian. Somehow the government people didn’t like my resume and cover letters, and so my career went the other way. Fate messing me up there? Yeah, maybe. And what about my love life? Did fate mess me up? Yes, I think I already echoed so many times how nonexistent my love life is. Who gets to be stuck in a group with mostly females? Me!

So let it be fate toying with my sanity by making me have to stay in the same hotel room as Hoseok. It turns out all the other rooms were booked, so the only empty one is one of the executive suites. Okay, to be fair, there was this other standard room available for each of us, but then . . . the thought of being able to stay at an executive suite won me over. Fine, I take it back. My greediness led me to have to be in the same room as Hoseok and when we arrive at the suite, I realize that we’ll be in the same bed as well.

After years of friendship, you’d think sleeping together on one bed shouldn’t be that awkward? No matter how close we were, we never shared beds. I think it was just that line we drew to stay friends. Whenever he crashed at my place, he would just sleep on the couch. When I went to his apartment, he would offer me his guest bedroom. So now that we have one king sized bed in front of us, I’m not really sure how this will work out.

Before I can even start debating, Hoseok tells me, “The manager said he’d send us some clothes to wear. In the meantime, why don’t you take a bath first?”

“What about you?” I ask.

“It’s fine. I can wait a bit. I did dump you into the ocean,” he responds.

“True. You’re right,” I snicker. “I should get first dibs.”

“There should be a bathrobe inside, so don’t worry about clothes for now,” he notes.

“All right.”

I walk down the hallway and turn to the right to find the bathroom. Upon entering the bathroom, I notice how fancy everything is. There’s Hoseok’s favourite high-tech toilet. The sink counter and the floor are made of marble. The bathtub is very deep and has buttons that remind me of a Jacuzzi. Without thinking much, I fill up the tub and once the water is at the perfect temperature, I take off my clothes and slip in. I’m about to take my time relaxing and even considering doing a bubble bath later when out of the corner of my eye, I see . . . Hoseok sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

Gawking directly at me, he waves and greets, “Nice view huh?”

“Wh-Wh-What?” I stutter and quickly cover my important areas. I look around and finally realize that this bathroom is completely open! There aren’t any doors. I should have remembered that bathrooms come with doors. You don’t just go into a room and not have a door. This bathtub just so happens to be right across from the bed and Hoseok is to the right of the bed. I finally see this glass sliding door that I should have pulled to prevent someone from walking to the bathroom. However, this door doesn’t cover the bath tub at all. Someone could still hop into this tub and knowing Hoseok . . . God knows what’ll happen?

“Don’t be that shy,” Hoseok teases. “I took out my contacts.”

“Oh . . .” I guess that’s fair enough? I mean, if he is near sighted, he shouldn’t be able to see anything. Just when I’m about to relax, Hoseok starts marching in my direction. “J-J-J-Just what do you think you’re doing?“

He has this coy grin that clearly signals that he is up to no good. I’m starting to panic now, so I try to move further away from him. When he reaches the edge of the bathtub, he utters, “I’m getting kind of cold. I’m thinking of joining you.”

“Are you crazy?” I shout. “G-G-Go away! You’re getting too close!”

Hoseok sits at the corner of the tub and leans his weight on his hand. “There’s nothing much to see anyway.” He fakes a yawn.

“Hey!” I splash him with my left hand. His face gets soaked with water and he tries to wipe away the water with his shirt. Since that isn’t helping, he gets up, takes off his shirt and tosses it aside. I think this is the first time I’ve see him naked or at least . . . this close to me while being topless. I notice his bony shoulder blades and toned arms. I never knew he worked out intensely. When I hear him unzip his jeans, I yelp, “S-S-Stop!”

“It’s bad to wear wet clothes,” he innocently remarks with his back still facing me.

“You’re not seriously—“

Hop.

Hoseok leaps into the bathtub with me. I’m too afraid to look, so I close my eyes. “Gem, how are you gonna date Bogum if you can’t even look at a guy’s body?” Hoseok warns me.

“Th-Th-Th-That’s different, and I’ll be prepared by that time,” I counter.

“Right. I think you should try to get used to guys, so open your eyes,” he threatens. Still, I don’t listen to him, so he moves forward, causing me to mutter, “Wh-Wh-What are you—“

“If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to get closer and closer to you until—“

“Fine!” I blurt and force my eyes to face the reality. I see Hoseok’s strong chest and as my eyes glimpse downwards, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that he is still wearing his underwear. Sure, it’s one of those tight Calvin Klein ones, but you know, at least that part is covered?

“Gem,” Hoseok chuckles, “you’re pretty naughty.”

“Wait . . . what?”

“I saw you checking out my crotch.”

“N-N-No, I can explain. I was just making sure that—“

“It’s okay. You can look at it all you want. I’m pretty confident with what I have.”

“Jesus. You and your narcissism,” I groan.

“Oh yeah, you should probably really start washing yourself or else you’re going to sit here all day in water,” he reminds me.

“You close your eyes,” I demand.

“You’re serious?” he moans. “I already said I took out my contacts.”

“Too bad. Shut your eyes or else I’m not moving.”

“Fine.”

When Hoseok finally obeys me, I squeeze some shower gel onto my hand and start rubbing it all over my body. I’m too focused on making sure that I get all of the sand and grossness out of my body that I forget to check whether he really has his eyes closed. By the time, I’m starting to wash my hair, Hoseok requests, “Can you pass me the body wash?”

“Oh sure,” I reply without processing that question in my head. When I give him the bottle, I also don’t give that much thought. It’s only when I start rubbing shampoo in my hair do I look at him and notice that his eyes aren’t even closed. “You lied!” I whine.

“It’s not as if I’m going to be in a tub waiting for you to finish,” he answers. “Plus, I did tell you that I’m joining you?”

“That’s unfair!” I argue. “You saw me completely naked!”

Without another word, Hoseok stands up and takes off his briefs. “Now that’s fair?” he confirms with me.

“J-J-Just get back down,” I urge, feeling very flustered. I turn my back towards him and continue to massage my scalp with my fingers. I hear the water splashing, meaning that Hoseok is moving. I feel his presence hover over me as he grabs the shampoo.

“Relax,” he reassures me. “I’m not going to do anything . . . unless you really are looking forward to it?”

“No!” I instantly answer.

“Sheesh. Thanks for rejecting me like that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Since I can’t face him, I have to dip my head like I’m on my way to the finish lane of backcrawl race. You’d think that I’d see the ceiling, yet instead, my eyes meet Hoseok’s. He is staring down at me and giving me a wide smile. I gasp out of fright and almost slip in the tub. Hoseok grabs a hold of my arms and back to support me. My back senses his body pressing towards me. I’m feeling the awkwardness, yet Hoseok won’t let me get out of this situation. He takes this chance to wrap his arms around me from behind and to whisper in my ear, “Careful there, Gem.”

I feel his hot breath tickle the back of my neck, making me have goosebumps. “Hoseok, this is weird,” I state.

“You really think so?” he continues to say close to my ear.

Because I want to argue with him, I turn my head around only to be tricked by Hoseok who seizes this opportunity to press his lips to shut me up. His tongue then forces my mouth to widen to accept a deeper kiss. When he notices that I’m almost out of breath, he stops the kiss and acts like nothing happened.

“Hoseok, did you—“

“You should wash off the remaining shampoo in your hair and put some conditioner in your hair too,” he interrupts. Since I’m blinking, he grabs onto one of the shower heads and turns it on. “I’ll do it for you,” he suggests.

I actually let him wash my hair. His fingers gently massage my scalp and brush through my hair. I feel like I’m at a salon that I want to close my eyes and take a nap. Once my eyes close, I feel a soft press on my forehead. Wait . . . a kiss again? Wait, what?

“All right,” he notifies me. “Your hair is done. You should get out now and dry yourself.”

“Y-Y-You close your eyes!” I demand again.

“I’ve already seen everything. It doesn’t really make a—“

“Do it.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes before shutting his eyes together. I take this time to leap out of the bathtub and run for the towel. “Oh,” Hoseok comments while I’m running. “Nice ass by the way.”

“Hoseok!” I yell.

Hoseok follows me shortly because there is someone knocking at the door. He quickly wipes his body with another towel and puts on one of the bathrobes. Meanwhile, I slip on a bathrobe that is far too big for me and start to blow dry my hair. I don’t even hear Hoseok come back to the bathroom until he touches my shoulder. When I switch off the blow dryer, he gives me a pair of pajamas and states, “Put these on. I asked them to grab the smallest size.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replies and walks out of the bathroom.

I take this time to blow dry my hair and think about what just happened. I really can’t believe that he . . . jumped into the tub with me. Okay, I saw him naked and he got a good look at me. God this is mortifying! And what’s worse is that he . . . kissed me. How could he have just kissed me because he felt like it? He should know that I’ve been looking forward to my meaningful first kiss with . . . my future boyfriend. He even stuck his tongue in my mouth! But I don’t think he is a bad kisser . . . Ah! What am I even thinking? Gemma, snap out of it. I look ahead and notice that Hoseok is standing beside me. I nearly jump up out of shock.

“Gem! You’re so slow!” Hoseok complains. “And what are you even doing? Your hair is curling all over the place! Don’t you even know how to blow dry your hair?”

“Um . . . I just flick my hand through my hair?”

“Give me that thing,” he insists and grabs onto the blow dryer. He takes a hairbrush on the counter and uses it to properly adjust my curls. “See? This is how you make sure that your hair doesn’t go all over the place.”

Watching him blow dry my hair makes me wonder one question. “Do you do this for all your exes?” I accidentally blurt.

“Why do you want to know? You’re jealous?” he verifies. Since I don’t reply immediately, he adds, “You’re the first one to try to bury me alive, if that makes you feel better.”

“I-I-I am not jealous,” I refute. “I just wanted to know how you won over those girls’ hearts. Ouch.” He tugs on my hair to break through this tangle. “Can’t you do this lighter?”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “To answer your question, I never did this for my exes.”

“Why not?”

“They’re capable of maintaining their hair nicely,” he explains.

“Hey! That’s not nice at all.”

“Just voicing the truth here,” he points out.

“Thanks. You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“Yet you still hang around me,” he says. “You clearly don’t find me annoying.”

I look in the mirror again and realize that Hoseok has to often bend down to my height to accurately blow dry my hair. I don’t want him to become the hunched back of Notre Dame, so I propose, “I’m going to sit on the counter, okay? That’d make this easier for you.”

“Sure.”

When I hop onto the marble surface, I feel the coldness of the stone sink into my skin. Luckily the hot air from the blow dryer warms me up. The awkward part is that I’m actually facing Hoseok directly. Somehow, I feel kind of embarrassed being this close to him. Having him touch my hair . . . is rather intimate? The fact that whenever he leans closer, I can see his chest isn’t exactly . . . yeah, I might need to close my eyes just to escape this weird moment. As soon as I choose to shut my eyes, I feel the heat from the blow dryer dissipate and then a soft touch comes to my lips. Instantly, my eyes widen to discover that Hoseok is kissing me again. When I try to break free, his left hand pushes the back of my head slightly forward, forcing me to stay in the kiss. He tries to attack me with his tongue, but I’m smart enough this time to bite onto his tongue.

“Ah!” he yelps. “Damn it. Did you have to bite that hard?”

“Yes!” I shout. “Why’d you kiss me again? And why’d you kiss me the first time too?”

“Because you looked like you wanted to be kissed,” he clarifies.

“I wasn’t!” I objected.

“You even closed your eyes this time,” he said.

“That was because . . . uh . uh . . . uh . . . I got sleepy!”

“Stop lying, Gem,” he replies. “Whenever you lie, you have all these filler words.”

“Then I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” he interrogates.

“Err . . .”

Hoseok seems to know why I was shy, so he advances towards me. I have nowhere to run, so I lean backwards, pressing my back against the mirror. He traps me in this position with his hands holding onto the edge of the sink counter.

“I think you like me,” he declares confidently.

“No I don’t!” I argue. “I only like you as a friend!”

“I don’t think so.” He inches closer to my face, making me grimace. “Your face is telling me the truth. It’s really red.”

“I’ve . . . never had these type of experiences with guys, so of course I’d get nervous!” I explain. “I just like you as a friend.”

“Then you should be fine with practising how to kiss with a friend,” he nonchalantly says.

“Practising how to kiss?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok notifies me. “If you want to seduce Bogum, you should be a good kisser, but you can’t be a good one unless you practice.”

“Th-Th-That’s true,” I stammer.

“So I’m helping you be a really good kisser.”

“I guess . . .” I let my voice wander off. “That . . . kind of makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” he guarantees, “and you have to be able to read the mood to know when to kiss or be able to make a guy want to kiss you.”

“So . . . does that mean I’ve been mastering this mood reading thing?”

Hoseok remarks, “When you closed your eyes while you were close to me, that made me want to kiss you.”

“So . . . if I do something like that in front of Bogum, then possibly he’d—“

“It’s not that that simple, but yeah, I guess you can put it that way,” he interjects, “and sometimes, you can surprise people with a kiss. That’d surely get Bogum’s attention.”

“Huh.”

I let this whole practicing how to kiss thing digest in my head. So Hoseok is preparing me to be a good kisser to win over Bogum’s heart? It’s true that I can’t become a master kisser if I just stick with Youtube videos. Even practising kissing my hand doesn’t seem viable. I guess the perfect practice candidate would be Hoseok. He knows about my feelings for Bogum and has agreed to support me.

“Plus,” Hoseok now adds, “if we don’t act like a true couple in front of your family and Bogum, our plan won’t work.”

“That is . . . true.”

“Okay, so we’re good?”

Hoseok is about to back away from me when I utter, “Wait!”

“What’s up?” he asks.

I pull him towards me and plant my lips on his. When I let go, I ponder, “Wasn’t that a good surprise kiss?”

Hoseok looks to his right and scratches his right collarbone with his left hand. “You still need practice,” he mumbles before turning his back to me. I watch him take a few steps before I remember that he still hasn’t dried his hair.

“Hey!” I yell. “Come back here! You can’t go to sleep with wet hair! You’ll get a headache!”

Hoseok doesn’t listen to me at all. His head lowers as he marches off to the bedroom. I can only chase after him with a blow dryer in my hand. Seriously, why can’t he just listen to me?


	7. Feverish

Flip. Pause. Force my eyes to close. Now repeat this too many times.

That’s how I’m trying to sleep, but somehow I’m restless. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to this bed so I can’t get myself to settle down. Whenever I stay at a hotel, regardless of how fancy it is, I can never get used to of the bed for the first few days. I always feel that there is something gross about the mattress, the blankets, and the pillows. Who knows who has slept on the bed and who knows what the people did on it right? I guess having Hoseok beside me . . . makes the situation more nerve-wracking. I can’t watch TV when he needs to sleep. I can’t have some late night snack either because of the same reason. I’m just stuck here, rotating back and forth to find the right position to sleep.

What’s more annoying is that I’m having a blanket fight with Hoseok. He keeps curling the blanket away from me, leaving me with nothing but the corner. My tummy is barely covered and I’m starting to feel the cold wind from the AC blow on my body. Whenever I tug for the blanket, he pulls back. I don’t know if he thinks this is a game, but it is not funny at all. I’m so frustrated that I finally snap at him, “Hoseok! Stop hogging the blanket! I’m cold okay?” He doesn’t respond right away and when he does, he murmurs something too quietly that I can’t hear. “Hoseok! Did you hear what I said?” I confirm, which results in the same reply.

I sense something is off. He usually will make some bratty remark, yet this time, he is too quiet. I turn on the light beside the bed and then scoot closer to Hoseok. One look at him, and I already know that he is having a fever. There is sweat dripping from his temple and his teeth is chattering. The back of my palm touches his forehead to do a final check. Yup, he has a fever.

I resist the urge to say that I told him so. He should have dried his hair before going to bed. He also should have taken a proper bath. Since he didn’t listen, this is what he gets. I know I shouldn’t sound this harsh, but I get particularly irritated when I clearly tell him something for his own good and he still refuses to take my advice to heart. Despite my irritation, I’m not cruel enough to leave him to suffer by himself, so I make a call to the front desk and ask for some medicine, a bottle of water, and a new set of pajamas. Then, I boil a kettle of hot water for him to drink later and soak a towel in cold water to place on his forehead. After a worker comes with the medicine, I realize that I have to get him to eat it somehow. He should be awake enough to eat by himself right? This isn’t going to be like a typical romantic comedy where I have to make him swallow the pill by kissing him? How does that even work? Wouldn’t Hoseok gag anyway and spit in my face? After the medicine part, there’s also the trouble of getting him changed. He shouldn’t sleep in clothes that are drenched in cold sweat.

When I am hovering over Hoseok, I pat him a few times on the arm. “Wake up, Hoseok,” I urge. “You have to take some medicine.” His eyebrows only furrow, causing me to repeat, “Wake up. You need to take some medicine.” His eyelids seal themselves tighter together, and I know that at this rate he won’t wake up.

With much reluctance, I open the water bottle, pop one of the pills in my mouth, take a sip of water, and aim for Hoseok’s lips. When our lips touch, he actually opens his mouth and lets me pass the pill with my tongue. What catches me by surprise is when he prolongs this exchange a minute or so longer than it’s supposed to be. A trail of water even slides down the side of my mouth, making me feel like a slobbering old hound. I try to retreat, but his hand steadies my neck, turning this into an extended kiss. All of a sudden, he lets me go and lies back onto his pillow with his legs curling up to his torso. If you look at him now, he really resembles an innocent baby. He is even mumbling something quietly to himself. As I inch closer to wipe some more sweat from his face with a clean towel, I overhear him ask, “Why don’t you . . . get it?”

“Get what?” I wonder aloud.

“I-I-I’ve . . . always been watching.”

“Watching?”

“Why can’t you look at me . . . too?”

“Huh?”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything more and flips over to the other side. I’m left there wondering what in the world he meant. I mean, he is definitely having a bizarre dream. Who is he even talking to? Why do those words even mean, especially his last question. That makes him . . . sound like he has some unrequited crush on someone, which seems impossible. All the girls flock to him. He doesn’t have that word “unrequited” in his love dictionary.

I shake my head a few times to make myself forget about what he said. I need to change his clothes now. He won’t be able to sleep comfortably with all that sweat. With his new pajamas in my hands, I walk to the other side of the bed and then crawl onto it. Luckily, his old pajamas just have buttons, so I only need to unbutton his top. As I begin to unbutton the first one, I can’t help but think that this feels wrong. I’m stripping him without his permission. Moreover, when I’m finished taking off his pajama top, I have to wipe off his excess sweat. Better be a big girl now, I remind myself while progressing to the final button. After slipping his arms out of the sleeves, I use the towel to press against his skin. His eyelids twitch from time to time as I change places that I am wiping, so I try not to do this too quickly. When I reach his abs, I’m shocked to feel how hard they are. After that bath incident, I realized how fit he actually was. He’s the type that looks lanky but has hidden muscles. His abs even remind me of a chocolate bar with all those firm rectangular pieces set. Chocolate abs?

Now I’m not stunned why so many girls would drool over him. While helping him put on the new top, I think about how lucky he is to win that genetic lottery. He really doesn’t lack anything in this life. He has his future set out for him. He doesn’t need to do much and he’s successful. Damn. Seriously. But everyone isn’t perfect right? I guess his unstable love life would be the missing piece to his perfect puzzle. He says he doesn’t really care and is looking, but my mind turns back to that question: “Why can’t you look at me too?”

That’s classic for unrequited love. Who could he be in love with? Do I know her? I’m pretty sure I know of all his exes. They’ve all come back to haunt me. Maybe it’s someone that he dated before he knew me. We only met in university. He obviously started dating prior to our encounter. Maybe she is some childhood friend or perhaps she is his first love? What if it’s his high school girlfriend? Now that I think of it, he has never told me about his childhood and his high school years. What happened then?

I’m certain he was popular, I think as I take off his pants and begin patting his legs dry. I bet his locker was filled with love confessions. He probably had an overload of chocolates during Valentine’s Day. I’m sure he had his own posse and dated some cheerleader or student council member. She must have been pretty. All of his exes were beautiful—albeit they might have represented different types of beauty but all of them had memorable faces. Maybe that first love is actually his childhood friend. Then, she could still be close to him. If that’s the case, where is she? Why haven’t I seen her yet? Where is he hiding her? Why can’t I meet her? We’re supposed to tell each other everything. He can’t do this to me! He should let me know . . . Oh wait, I didn’t let him know about Bogum. I guess that’s why Hoseok was so upset that day. I’m beginning to understand how he . . .

Wait a second!

This is hard.

I finally stare at where my hands have been placed and then instantly gasp and back away. Ah! How long have I been around his crotch? Oh goodness gracious! I force myself to close my eyes to slip his pants off of his ankles and then slide the new pair of pajama bottoms on him. With my eyes closed though, I really am not sure what I’m touching at all. My hands are pulling on the fabric and occasionally grazing his skin. It’s particularly hard because he is on the side of his body, so it’s really easy to touch his legs. I give up, I tell myself. Let me just do this quickly with my eyes open. I pull up his pants, but still that bulge is there.

Crap.

This is bad, and it’s my fault.

How to solve this? I imagine it wouldn’t be that pleasurable to have an erection while sleeping. I don’t really get how these male bodies work. I might as well look online and figure out how to tame an erection. I literally search that phrase on Google and I come up with a basic guide. All of the tips involve the person being conscious and aware of his erection. I guess I can hide it with the blanket! But then if he gets all of the blanket, I’m not going to be able to sleep. I scroll down more on the page and find that ice cubes could potentially cool him down? I think that’d give him a frost bite, so I’m just going to grab a cold, wet towel and put it over that spot for a minute or so. That should cure him.

My plan is pretty awkward and I end up just tossing the wet towel on his crotch. Then, I hope for the best. When I’m in the process of retrieving the towel from that region, Hoseok decides to flip over to the other side. Hey! My hand is still there, and he is nearly clinching my hand along with the towel between his thighs. Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough to react, so I end up losing my balance and my body lands over his body. I’m like a bridge because my tummy is lying on his waist, and to make matters worse, he adjusts his body so that his back is lying on the bed. I’m going along with the ride without a choice and what happens is terribly embarrassing. I have my face planted close to his belly button and my chest lands right around his crotch.

It’s still erect.

Crap.

And there’s that wet towel on my boobs now.

Shoot. I have to change my shirt or blow dry it.

I get off of his body immediately. When I’m in the middle of taking off my shirt, Hoseok abruptly announces, “Why are you . . . getting naked?”

After pulling down my shirt, I see him glance at his package. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he felt that erection too. “Look,” I tell him. “I can explain. This isn’t rape.”

“I sure did not consent to that.” He points to his still hardened penis.

I know you can’t make anyone consent to sex when the person is unconscious. I know that from basic criminal law. I didn’t have the intention to sexually assault him! The mens reas isn’t there. The acteus reus might be slightly questionable, but . . . but . . . how to phrase this without sounding very absurd?

“Um,” I attempt to clarify, “I um . . . It’s that—“

“I need to take care of this,” Hoseok cuts me off before wondering off to the washroom. “Give me like 10 minutes?”

10 minutes. That means I have 10 minutes to think about a good reason as to how I got him hard. I can’t think of anything good to say. If I lie, I’m pretty sure Hoseok will be able to know that. He can read my mind like a psychic. I don’t know how he does it, but maybe my emotion are too easy to understand. I think my face is the type that will show all of my emotions. I can’t hide anything, so I’d probably make a terrible actress. I’d probably win the worst actress of the year if acting were my career.

Hoseok, on the other hand, can lie and is able to convince anyone of anything. He can make lies become the truth. I’m not sure if it is due to his “charisma” as his exes say or he just has a way with his words. Maybe he really should consider a career in acting. I’m sure with his face, he’d be really popular. But then, if he becomes famous . . . he’d get even more crazy females around him. All these hormone-raging teenage girls will want to attack him, and they’ll hate me for being by his side. I don’t want to be hated on! I don’t want to be egged when it’s not even Halloween! I also don’t want the tabloids digging up my life stories. I’m sure my mom would go crazy too. My sister would sell off stories to the paparazzi and share all my mortifying kid photos. So no . . . Hoseok shouldn’t go into acting. He should just stay where he is!

“Okay,” he comes back from the washroom, hops onto the bed, and sits cross legged. “Let’s talk now.”

“What did you do to get it back to normal?” I try to change the topic only to realize that I’ve exacerbated the situation.

“You really want to know that?” he verifies.

“You don’t have to—“

“I masturbated,” he interrupts too nonchalantly.

My hands shield my face. I know I shouldn’t even be blushing because we’re adults. There’s nothing wrong with self-love, but I can’t help being shy about this type of topic. My family has been super conservative, and I’ve never chatted among my friends about sex or masturbation. I’m pretty sure they think I’m too uptight and inexperienced for those topics.

“Oh,” I mumble to myself.

“Gem, why do you seem so surprised?” he asks. “I’m not a saint, you know? I’m pretty sure you do it too right?”

“L-L-L-Let’s not talk about that,” I stutter and try my best not to make eye contact with him.

“It’s not that hard,” he explains. “You can rub your clitoris and also—“

“Hoseok!”

“What? I’m trying to educate you so you know what you like,” he justifies. “I can show you how to do it too if that helps—“

“So I got too carried away wiping off your sweat around your legs,” I chime in before he can even make these proposals, “and before I knew it, my hands were in that area. I wanted to help you make it flat again, and Google said that I could throw something cold on you. Then you kept moving around so I landed there.”

Sadly, Hoseok gets to the heart of the issue and poses, “And how did you get carried away with wiping sweat off of my body in the first place?”

Am I really going to admit that I was wondering about his past high school life. It’s all because he said those things! Yes. I’m going to say that.

“It’s because you said some odd stuff!” I bellow. “You started sleep talking and asked ‘why can’t you look at me too?’ After you asked that, I started wondering about your high school ex or childhood friend.”

“My childhood friends are guys. One is gay. The other is married,” he answers. “As for my high school girlfriends . . . too many to count.”

“I figured that, but—“

“And you kissed me right?” he double checks.

“Huh?”

“I’m pretty sure you yourself kissed me—“

“Oh that. That was just to feed you the pill,” I clarify.

“Do you really love Bogum?” Hoseok shoots this unexpected question at me. I’m not sure why he is suddenly interrogating me this way. I’m usually the one that bounces from topic to topic, and he is the one that follows my rhythm. However, this time, he is in control of this conversation and is asking the questions I would rather prefer avoiding.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him back.

“Answer my question,” he demands. “Are you really in love with Bogum?”

“I really don’t understand why you are—“

“Okay, let me simplify this for you. If he asked you to marry you right now, would you say yes?”

“He is already engaged to my sister. There’s no way that he would—“

“Fine,” Hoseok again interjects. “Let’s make this even simpler. If he wanted to kiss you right now, would you let him?”

I take a minute to think about this scenario. If it were Bogum with me in this hotel room and he asked if he could kiss me, would I agree?

“I . . . think . . . yes,” I reply after imagining the scenario.

“I see,” Hoseok notes with a tiny sigh. Then, he pets my head a few times and utters, “I’m going to go back to sleep. I’m still tired. Good night.”

He switches off all the lights, leaving me to crawl my way back to an empty spot on the bed. We are both lying on the opposite sides of the bed, as far away as possible from each other. There is this big divide between us, making it hard for me to have an equal share of the blanket. I tug once to be able to cover my tummy completely, and this time Hoseok doesn’t fight back. He lets me take almost the entire blanket. I don’t know why, but I feel a sense of guilt and remorse. I’d rather him probe me with all these invasive inquiries than be faced with silence. I just hope that this is only temporary. I can’t imagine him ignoring me or casting me out of his life. He can’t do that to his best friend. Best friends are supposed to stay together for better or for worse. I’ve been by his side through all the tough times too, yet why do I feel like he doesn’t want to hang around with me anymore?

Why am I almost certain that Hoseok sounded frustrated that I said I would let Bogum kiss me if he asked for a kiss? Why does my chest hurt when I recall how Hoseok patted my head?  Ugh, I’m starting to get a headache now.

I guess I should just sleep for now. Tomorrow will be a new day right? 


	8. Girl Talk

Achoo! Sniffle. Achoo! Yawn. Blow my nose. Gulp, gulp, glup some water. Suck on some throat candy. Zzzz.

You guessed it! I’m sick. I had a fever, but later I got better and now I’m stuck with a clogged nose, throat, and ears. In fact, sometimes I hear some buzzing in my ears. I thought I was going to go deaf, which only caused my family doctor to laugh at me. She said that my ears are also clogged and that’s why I feel the weird pressure in my ears. The nose and ears share the same tube apparently. You learn something new every day huh?

Despite my cold, I still go to work and even head out for dinner with Jung Wheein, my best girlfriend since university. She happened to live in the same residence as me for first year of college. Although she wasn’t my roommate and didn’t even live in the same floor as me, she and I met when I was locked out of my room and there was no one working at the front desk on a Sunday morning. I had accidentally tossed my keys in the dryer. I know . . . it’s stupid, but I did do that. Wheein happened to arrive at the laundry room only to find me cursing at myself. The first thing that came out of my mouth while she walked in was: “Fuck. Why did I do that? I’m so fucking stupid!” Then, our eyes met, so I had to explain my silliness. Luckily, she was kind enough to let me stay at her place until my clothes finished drying. Later, she and I became closer when we realized that we were both aiming to go to law school. The two of us became LSAT buddies, struggled to keep our GPA high, volunteered at local pro-bono services, and submitted our applications together. Sadly, we didn’t go to the same law school as each other, but miraculously, she ended up working in the same city as me.

Now, Wheein is waiting at the restaurant for me. I can see her impatiently slouching in the chair with her cheek resting on her palm. She still wears her messy, long hair thrown in a bun and a wrinkled floral blouse. If she actually took the time to dress up, she would be like those idols, especially when she is taller and far slender than me. When I’m dashing towards her in heels, clicking and clacking against the floor, Wheein heaves a heavy sigh. “Did you get lost in some file again?” she grumbles at me.

“Sorry about that,” I answer as I take a seat across from her.

“Been waiting here for a good half hour.” She takes a sip of her glass of water before pouring me my share.

“So sorry,” I say again. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she utters. “I knew you’d say that so I ordered one for myself.”

“Sheesh,” I snicker.

“I do need to be rewarded for my patience huh?” she snaps at me. “And this is why I’d rather work in public service. I rarely have to stay later than 6 pm.”

“Right. Right,” I mumble while skimming the menu.

“Order the beef tongue, the fish, and the pulled pork tacos,” she tells me. “Those are the good ones here.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

She adds, “I’d rather make suggestions than have you stare at the menu for twenty more minutes.”

“It’s just hard to choose from so many dishes,” I respond in between blowing my nose. “Usually Hoseok just orders all the dishes I want to try.”

“Have you done it with him yet?” She questions. Honestly, she always asks me this question whenever we meet. I don’t know why she wants to do that. It’s not like our friendship will change within a week or so.

“Of course not,” I retort and flag down a waiter.

Wheein lets her head slam against her palm as she sighs. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You two are practically a couple. No, wait, you guys are a couple!” She pounds her fist on the table and declares.

“We’re not,” I reply. The waiter comes to take my order, so I tell him, “I’ll take the beef tongue, pulled pork, and fish taco.”

“I’ll have the same, that house wine of yours, and these fried jalapenos,” she notes. After the waiter leaves, Wheein continues to complain, “God damn. Can’t you guys just be together? Do you know how long I’ve been chasing this drama huh? You have more than 400 episodes. Can you guys not drag this on and just fuck—“

“Sid!” I butt in to stop her from cursing more.

“What?” She yells at me. “You know that I’m telling you the truth. Isn’t it obvious to you?”

“Obvious?”

Wheein pulls at the ends of her hair with both of her hands. “Argh! You fucking idiotic bitch!” she upbraids me and points at me. “How can you be this dense?”

“Dense?” I ponder.

“He is fucking in love with you!” she shrieks.

“If he likes me,” I argue, “then why does he go around sleeping with other girls?”

“Because he is sexually frustrated? Trying to get over you maybe? Seriously, Gemma, can you just get out of your little bubble?” she hollers. “I’ve been watching you guys since college, okay? And I know what I see. He fucking loves you, and you will never find a better guy than him!”

“We have this talk nearly every time we meet nowadays. You were never this mad before,” I point out and let out a huff.

“That’s because I was hoping that you would realize that you’re in love with him too!” Wheein crosses her arms and glares at me viciously.

“I’m not in love with him,” I object. “Hoseok is just a friend, a close friend.”

As I sip on my glass of water, Wheein rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that little bastard?”

“Don’t call Bogum that,” I correct her.

Wheein and Bogum only met once, yet that one encounter has caused her to forever hate him. They met because Bogum came home for Thanksgiving once. Since Wheein’s family lives in Seattle and she didn’t want to fly home, I decided to invite her over to my house for the Thanksgiving weekend. Bogum and my family had a Thanksgiving dinner together and naturally, Wheein was part of this as well. Bogum annoyed Wheein because of several reasons. He never laughed at her jokes and even pointed out some logical inconsistencies in those jokes. He then accidentally crashed into her and spilled a glass of red wine on her Marc Jacobs t-shirt. He also didn’t offer to pay for dry cleaning and didn’t apologize since Wheein was running towards him and was also on the phone. Since Wheein already knew of my crush towards Bogum and of how he had acted towards me, she was frustrated that he was leading me on. She kept identifying the situations where he would give me hope to make me crush on him some more when it was obvious that he only cared about Irene.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Wheein hated Irene more. Irene didn’t do her share of the dishes and so Wheein and I had to finish everything. Irene laughed at the wine stain on Wheein’s shirt and commented that Wheein should consider drinking more milk to have bigger boobs. Irene also kept showing off the photos she took for her fashion blog website. Finally, Wheein could see how Irene would push me around and make me seem like her maid.

“He is a fucking asshole!” Wheein roars and as soon as her drink comes, she finishes half of the bottle.

“He is just honest and principled,” I explain.

“You’re always defending him! You never, ever say any of his bad points!” Her voice raises once more and her eyebrows mush together to make a ferocious frown.

I mutter, “He is . . . blunt, I guess? And he can be insensitive to other people’s feelings.”

“Anyway, I hate him. I hope he rots away and gets eaten by termites,” she curses him. “Irene and he can go get together and both rot together. Bad people should be with each other.”

“Actually . . .”

“Hold up!” Wheein sits upright and uncrosses her leg. “You’re not serious? They’re fucking together?”

“They’re . . . actually engaged.”

“Oh my god!” She starts to laugh hysterically and even slaps her own thigh. “Two mad cows together! This is the best joke of the year! I can’t wait to go to their wedding. You better invite me as some guest, but I’m not giving them any gifts. They can go shit their own gifts themselves. You know, when I catch that flower she throws, I’m gonna throw it back at her . . . right in her face.”

“That’s a bit . . .”

“You better not stop me,” she leans closer to the table and threatens me.

“The thing is . . . um . . .”

I didn’t even complete my phrase, yet Wheein is able to guess what I’m about to say. “No! You are not going to try to steal Bogum from that bitch!” Wheein gets up, grabs my shoulders, and shakes me back and forth. The waiter arrives with our plate of food and awkwardly asks Wheein to move aside. As she sits back in her seat, she groans, “Why do you even like that bastard so much? What has he even done for you?”

“He is a good listener, and he is really smart. He is very responsible and diligent. He is honest and . . . cute.”

“Boring!” Wheein sums it up before grabbing her taco and taking a bite out of it. “He’s fucking boring. That’s what I’ll tell you, and you’re too weird for him, okay?”

“Thanks, Sid.”

“I’m just saying the truth. He hasn’t been able to accept your quirkiness, and I think it’s god damn selfish of him for always taking advantage of you!”

“He doesn’t take advantage of—“

“You always give him Christmas gifts and mail them off to the UK. He never gives you anything, besides those stupid thank you texts,” she utters.

“I didn’t ask for anything though.”

“Shouldn’t it be courtesy to at least give you . . . I don’t know . . . a gift card? Especially when you two have known each other for this long.”

“I-I-I guess.”

Wheein progresses to ramble in between her taco bites, “He always forgets your birthday. When you asked him to introduce you to some guy friends of his, he even refuses? Like what? It’s clear he rejected you, yet he’ll keep you to himself? Isn’t that selfish of him?”

I wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin and gulp down my cup of water. I don’t want to admit that Wheein is probably right. It is selfish of him not to introduce his guy friends to me when he knows how long I’ve been single. Bogum did say that I wouldn’t like his friends and that they wouldn’t like me. It’s true that if we both don’t like each other, then what’s the point in meeting, right?

Since I’m not sure how to reply to Wheein’s comment, I decide to change the topic a bit. “Somehow Hoseok and I are pretending to date in front of my family,” I state.

Wheein starts cheering foolishly like a fan who sees her favourite actor. “Ah! My favourite couple! I already have a couple name for you. You want to hear it?” She smiles widely. “Yes, you definitely do. So it’s . . . Lumma or um . . . Gemien! You can take your pick!”

“We’re just pretending, okay?” I remind her. “The point is to make my sister want to steal Hoseok from me and for Bogum to be jealous.”

“What if . . . Irene really succeeds in getting Hoseok?” Wheein wonders.

“I . . . don’t think that would—“

“A guy can’t always be waiting for you, Gem.” Wheein’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“He isn’t waiting for me.”

“Stop being in self-denial,” she demands. “You’re going to regret it if you lose him.”

“He’ll still be my friend regardless of what happens.”

“Honey,” Wheein waves her finger at me, “guys and gals can’t be friends. Okay. That’s an artificially made thing unless you both find each other really, really ugly. I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re attractive.”

“How do you even know that?” I question.

“Remember that time when I made you join a musical during fourth year?”

“Yeah,” I say. “That was so tiring. I kept having to lift all these props and paint stuff, while you were busy flirting with the lead male and the director.”

“That’s not the important point,” she states. “Remember that time when I was trying on my outfit for my role and we got bored, so I made you try out the lead actress’ costume?”

“Oh yeah. That super tight dress that was supposed to be a mini one but turned out to be—“

“Yeah that,” she cuts me off. “Well, I took a photo of you and I showed it to him before at lunch once when you went to the washroom. He made me send that photo to him. I asked him why he wanted that photo. He said why not? She’s pretty.”

“H-H-H-He was just being kind.”

“Oh come on, Gem. He really did find you pretty. You have to have more confidence in yourself. You can be sexy too, you know? Don’t let that bitch sister of yours get to you,” Wheein advises me. “And there is more.”

“More?”

“He makes sure that no guy can get close to you.”

“Huh?”

“Do you know why no guys have ever approached you or why none of your potential dates ever seem to work?” Wheein notes.

“Because I’m not that popular? My personality is a turn off?” I guess.

“No. It’s because of Hoseok.”

“What?”

“He would make sure to be by your side at all times. He would tell your dates that you were dating him or purposely post images of you two being together.”

“He just likes to be active on social media and show off where he has been.”

“Fuck.” Wheein pretends to slam her head on the table. “Can you just consider the fact that he really is in love with you? Has he tried to touch you in—“

“Oh!”

“Oh what?” Wheein nearly jumps up from her seat. “You two kissed?” When I glance away, Wheein bellows, “Halleluiah! There is God in this world! I’m so happy for you guys even though it took 600 episodes to get here. I’m still happy. So how was it? Was he a good kisser? He looks like a good kisser.”

“Um . . .”

I’m being forced to recall those memories. Images of him sticking his tongue to explore my mouth fill my mind. Then there’s the fact that I saw him naked and he saw my whole body too. I touched his . . . I can feel my ears and cheeks burning up. Worst off, Wheein highlights to me: “You guys . . . did more than kiss huh? Tsk, tsk, Gem. You naughty, naughty girl.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” I object. “Can you just . . . come over or maybe I should text you?”

“Nonsense! I’ll come over.” When I whisper the whole story in Wheein’s ear, she takes a minute to process everything and then she is clapping her hands. Her eyes are shining like a shooting star and her smile is too much. “Did you do more after you touched him?” she asks.

“No. He . . . um . . .” I whisper the final parts of the story to her and her smile turns into a big, fat frown.

“Can I slap you?” she requests.

“Um . . .no?”

Slap.

“Ow!” I mope and rub my cheek a few times. “What was that for?”

“For being mean and stupid to that poor Hoseok!” Wheein reprimands. “How could you break his heart like that?”

“Break his heart?”

“He wanted to see if he had any chances with you since you were accepting his kisses! And it was really sweet how he cheered you up after that fiasco with Irene and Bogum. I mean, this is how you treat him back?” Wheein barks, nearly spitting in my eye.

“But . . . I could . . . imagine kissing Bogum.”

“Ah! I want to slap you again.”

“Please don’t,” I beg.

“Okay, fine. Then answer me truthfully.”

“Yes?”

“If . . . Hoseok got married today to someone else and said he would never see you again, would you be upset?”

“I . . .”

I pause and think about this question deeper. If he married someone he truly loved and someone who loved him back, then I would be happy for him. Why did I have to never see him again? He wouldn’t be my friend after he married? That’s crazy. All of a sudden, I hear my phone ringing in my phone. It’s an unknown number, but I still answer it.

“Hello. Is this Gemma Fan?” A man with a deep, rustic voice asks.

“Yes, I am her.”

“Your friend Jung Hoseok is at the main police station right now.”

“Excuse me?”

“He said you’re his lawyer and wanted to make a call to you.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“He was drinking and driving. He got into a car accident.”

“I-I-I-Is he . . . o-o-okay?”

“He has a broken arm, but he didn’t injure anyone.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Where are you going, Gemma?” Wheein interrogates after I finish the call.

“It’s Hoseok,” I clarify. “He was drinking and driving.”

“Fuck. A DUI?”

I nod and quickly pay for my part of the bill. Wheein understands why I have to cut this dinner engagement short, but before I leave, she doesn’t forget to add, “You know when you were on the phone? You looked like you heard that someone had died.”

Was that when I heard that Hoseok had been in a car accident? I’m walking past the glass windows of the restaurant, and I take a glimpse at my face. I really do look concerned and serious. There is that distraught frown. He did break his arm, and he is at the police station. Is he okay there? Did they place him in jail? Why was he drinking in the first place and driving? I can’t bother with taking a subway, so I call a taxi.

Hoseok, you owe me big time, especially when I hate criminal law.


	9. In His Eyes

I learned at a young age that I could get anything I wanted easily. Truthfully, most of the time I never had to even open my mouth to say anything and my wish would be granted. When I told my parents that my friend had the latest video game console, they surprised me the next day with the same model. Girls would do me favours like offer to do my homework, give me snacks, and volunteer to do my duties. Guys would hang out with me because I had the latest gadgets and would treat them to meals. They would introduce me to more girls and suck up to me due to my family background. I really didn’t need to worry about much and I didn’t ask for much as well.

I remember one of the few requests I made to my parents. I asked for a dog, not because I thought it would be cool to own one but because I was lonely. My parents were too busy with their work to even care about me. I can’t complain that they don’t love me. They do, but often, I found that they would rather give me material goods so I would be distracted. They never showed up to any of my school events. They always forgot my birthday. There were no family vacations; if I wanted to go somewhere on a holiday, I just needed to tell the butler to arrange something. My parents also never asked me about my grades because anything was acceptable to them. They never scolded me because they didn’t want to bother with an angry child. A happy, compliant kid was all that they needed—an accessory that they could bring around to their social events. 

My older sister, Irene, was too busy with her own life to bother with mine and was hardly at home. After all, she was ten years older than me, so when I was still young, she was already in high school becoming infatuated with jocks. She was the most popular girl at school, the queen bee. It wasn’t hard to see why. She had inherited my mother’s good looks with her long dark brown, straight hair and skinny figure. Often, people would say that she was a beautiful actress’ doppelganger, and she took that compliment to heart. In fact, by the time she graduated high school, she led such a notorious lifestyle that she often made the cover of tabloids. She had become a popular model and became known for dating several famous actors and singers.   

My brother, Jihan, was three years older than me and hated my guts to the extent that I sometimes questioned where we shared the same bloodline. However, there was no doubt that he was my brother since he looked exactly like my father. The two shared the same dark hair, large yet droopy eyes, angled jaw, large, sharp nose, and flat, downturned lips. Jihan hated me because my parents and my grandpa stopped doting on him when I was born. Irene told me once that everyone used to focus on Jihan because he was the only male heir. Irene also said that although Jihan did nothing spectacular, everyone treated him like God. Then, I apparently came along and took his spotlight; as Irene put it, I was actually smart and looked better than Jihan.

I had inherited my grandmother’s features; my grandmother had won Miss Universe and became an actress. Unfortunately, she passed away when she was in her early forties due to a plane accident. My grandpa had been devastated for many, many years and never remarried. He had other girlfriends but refused to ever marry them. Somehow, all of his girlfriends reminded me faintly of my grandmother’s photographs. Since everyone in the family thought I resembled my grandmother, my grandpa poured his affection on me. Because I was his favourite, my parents too preferred me. If I were favoured, I would eventually inherit my grandpa’s fortune.

As for Jihan, he was left to fend for himself. I tried my best to be friends with him by offering to share my gifts with him or letting him have first pick, yet he always rejected me. He would push me away and yell at me. His yelling started when I was three.        

_Why is life so unfair? You never need to work for anything yet you get everything._

_Who do you think you are? I’m the older brother here._

_Wipe that smirk off of your face._

_I don’t need your fucking pity. You scum!_

_You’re nothing but a pretty face. Spit. You hear me? Nothing._

_You don’t deserve anyone’s attention. You don’t belong here. Get out!_

I know I shouldn’t complain or even feel lonely because Jihan had it worse than me. However, when I was eleven years old, I still ended up asking my parents for a dog. They got me a German Shepard puppy who I called Gaston. Over the two months, I cared for Gaston like I would to my own baby. I let him sleep with me and secretly I would feed him his favourite meat. I made sure he never had access to chocolate. I read a lot of books about dogs and took him every day for a walk. I took him to the vet to get his vaccines. I bathed him carefully and made sure water wouldn’t get in his ears. Despite everything I did, Gaston died in three months. I had given him treats one day and then he started vomiting. Everything happened so quickly and in the end, his body went limp in my arms. He was dead. I had killed him because I accidentally fed him these tainted treats. I knew I should have hidden where I stored his treats more discretely. I should have known that Jihan would poison those treats. I knew that I shouldn’t have left Gaston alone in the house with Jihan, yet I wanted to go to my best friend’s house to play.

It was only when Gaston died did I realize that whatever I grew to love, I would end up killing it. I overwatered the plants that I adored. I destroyed my favourite robot figurine because I kept hugging it to sleep. When I became obsessed with pineapples, I ate so much of them that I got food poisoning. The servants who were the closest to me all suffered because of me; Jihan would bully them. As soon as I became interested in a girl, Jihan would aim for her or would destroy her life. He would torment her so badly that she would disappear in my life.

_I’m here just to make your life suffer._

As time went by, I grew more and more afraid of liking anything or anyone. I kept my distance with everyone. I wore a mask in front of everyone and acted like a gentleman. I never let anyone know about my thoughts or my worries. When I started to feel close to someone, I would move onto another target. This cycle continued and I didn’t mind it until I met Gemma Fan.

At first, I didn’t think much of her. She was just another girl on campus. I had seen her in class but never spoke to her. At first glance, I could already tell that we probably had nothing in common and that she would likely dislike me. She was the serious, studious sort that sat closer to the front of the lecture and diligently took notes. She was actually too serious for my liking; she was the type that would expect her first boyfriend to marry her. I didn’t need that burden. Plus, I didn’t need to make an effort to make someone like me. I had more than enough friends and girlfriends, so one extra lady didn’t matter.

Fate can be a really funny thing. Somehow, we did meet, and she was far weirder than I had anticipated. She was fine spending time with a stranger just so that she could tell the stranger’s cousin that the cousin’s girlfriend wanted to break up. In the beginning, I thought she was insane and kind of annoying. I just wanted some peace to myself, yet she had to camp out at my apartment. Then, I had to feed her because she got too hungry. She also didn’t understand the subtle hints I was giving her to ask her to leave. How dense could she be?

The night dragged on when Namjoon came back just to hear Gemma announce that Irene wanted to break up with him. Namjoon started bawling and wanted us to comfort him. I was thinking how pathetic Namjoon was acting and praying that this would all end, especially seeing how Namjoon’s image had always been the tough guy. In fact, Namjoon’s face was always so serious, yet deep down, he was just a teddy bear at most. I also wanted to curse Gemma for even being here. She could have just met up with Namjoon elsewhere and told him the news. Why did she have to bring all the drama into my apartment?

However, I realized how useful Gemma could be when my ex-girlfriend came by to the apartment and mistook Gemma as the cheater. Gemma was slapped in the face, which made me want to burst out laughing. I had such a hard time keeping my composure, and at that point, I decided that she was going to be the one that would be the messenger of bad news to my flings. Moreover, she had to make up for Namjoon wasting my time, crying like a baby. In the end, I had my own type of entertainment and I didn’t need to get my hands dirty. All I had to do was befriend her, and it wasn’t that hard. I just followed her around campus, made her work on a school project with me, and listened to her complain here and there. When I got bored, I would play pranks on her and she never seemed to get mad at me.

My own game eventually got to me when I started to realize that Gemma was actually kind of popular on campus. I would hear a few guys in class talking about her at the bar or commenting about her when she walked by. She wasn’t bad looking. I wouldn’t say that she was super beautiful, yet there was that charm to her that kept me drawn to her. When I was by her side, I would never get bored. Somehow, I would genuinely laugh and those feelings of loneliness dissipated. She was honestly the type that would grow on someone over time, a dangerous type of poison.

Indeed, I was poisoned. Karma got the best of me. I started to admire how hard she worked towards her goal of becoming a lawyer. I liked how she had a pure heart and never hated anyone despite how much she complained. I enjoyed listening to her blab about anything because she always did something unique. The truth was that I became very obsessive. Whenever I noticed that a guy was interested in her, I would make sure that he would never get around to her. I let her lose all the guy friends beside her, and I didn’t mind having girls hate her. Since a lot of them thought that she was stealing me from other ladies, they disliked her. In the end, she would just be with me . . . but I knew that wasn’t healthy. I knew that if I continued to fall for her, I would eventually kill her.

In fact, Gemma’s best girlfriend, Wheein, confronted me one afternoon when Gemma had to attend a meeting before having lunch with us.

_You’re in love with her, aren’t you?_

_You’re thinking too much._

_Hoseok, I can tell by the way you look at her. You’re a control freak._

_I’m . . . not._

_How come I heard from some other guys that Gemma is your girlfriend?_

_Those guys aren’t good for her._

_Who are you to say that they aren’t good?_

_I know who suits her._

_Yourself?_

I couldn’t answer that question. Myself? Was that what I was thinking all this time? I never dared to consider myself because I knew of the consequences. She wouldn’t live happily with me. She would wither away because of me.

_If you don’t think it’s yourself, then stop ruining her prospects. She is free to date anyone and any guy is free to approach her._

_No._

_I knew it. Admit it, Hoseok. You’re fucking in love with her._

_She doesn’t feel for me that way, and we’re just friends._

_Cut the bullshit. You’re not just friends. She loves you too, but she isn’t convinced that you love her. Honestly, what the hell is wrong with you? Just tell her you love her._

_No._

_Why not?_

_I’m not going to ruin what we have here._

_Then what if one day . . . she . . . ends up with someone else? She’s not going to always be by your side._

_I know. I’m not stupid._

_You really do know? You act like you don’t know or at least you’re pretending to be ignorant. Let me tell you a secret then._

_What?_

_She has this crush on her childhood friend who never liked her back. I actually hate him, so can you please just steal Gemma’s heart? Or make her aware that she loves you?_

Several years later, I learned from Gemma that she had always loved her childhood friend, Park Bogum. I took the news harder than I anticipated. All the images were rushing in my head. Her smiling at him. Her kissing him. Them having sex. Their marriage. Their kids. I couldn’t take all these scenes. I had to stop her. I had to make her forget about him, even if it were through lies. I would rather be her first of everything than let Bogum soil her. I didn’t care what I would have to go through to make her fall for me or be mine. I wasn’t going to let someone else take someone I loved again. As a result, I offered to be her fake boyfriend. There was no way that I could initiate any intimate interactions without playing that role.

In the back of my mind though, I still worried if I would eventually break her. I could feel Jihan’s curse on me. Jihan actually killed himself. No, I killed Jihan.

_On October 14 th, Jihan’s twentieth birthday, he tossed a gun at me and drew a revolver from his pocket. “Come on, Hoseok,” he urged. “I know how much you want to shoot me. You hate me right? You hate how I’ve ruined your life huh?”_

_“You’re out of your mind. What are you—“_

_“Shoot me or I’ll shoot you.”_

_“No, I’m not going to shoot—“_

_Bang._

_He shot perfectly at my shoulder, causing me to groan and fall on my knees. “Get up, you fucking scum!” he shrieked and kicked me right where I was bleeding. As I glowered at him, Jihan cried aloud, “I’m going to shoot you in the face next! Let’s see how pretty you’ll—“_

_Bang._

_I shot him in the chest before he could fire at me. Blood spread all over his white shirt, staining him like a water colour painting. There was blood seeping from his mouth as he uttered, “Now look who’s ruined? Murderer. No one is ever gonna love you after all.”_

My lawyers successfully argued for self-defense, and my family was rich enough to make sure this record didn’t ever stay. Everyone in the family sympathized with me because they knew that Jihan was the villain and I was the saint. They didn’t know that I was probably more of the antagonist. I knew how they felt about me and used them to my advantage.

Sometimes, I wonder if Gemma will still stay by me if she knew the truth, if she really knew how ugly I was inside. Would she call me a murderer too? Would she run away from me?

So I hide. I hide between the romances. I pretend like I don’t care about anything, yet I know I care about everything. I especially want her to stay with me, so I try my best to act like a best guy friend. That’s the safest and surest way to keep her by my side. I keep reminding myself not to be greedy. I can’t want more from her.

Yet . . .

I really can’t stand her being with someone else. I know. I know I’m not acting logically. I’m making a conundrum. I’m indecisive. I’m a coward . . . in love, yet I don’t know how to love someone properly.

I just keep taking and taking and pushing my boundaries. I’ve kissed her many times that she never realized it. I started out small. I would often drink her drink, pretending that I wanted to try out that drink or that I accidentally took her cup. Then, when that didn’t satisfy me, I moved to giving a light peck on her hand. Often, she would fall asleep on the couch of my apartment and her hand would dangle from the edge of the armrest. I would take that chance to give a light kiss on her fingers or on her forehead. I was lucky that she was a heavy sleeper like Sleeping Beauty. The only time I kissed her on the lips was when she was drunk one day. She had wanted to go clubbing once and made me take her there. I bought her a few drinks and she kept insisting on drinking some more. I let her drink and when I took her back to my place and let her sleep in my bed, I planted my lips on hers. Those kisses never satiated my appetite. She wasn’t even aware or reacting to the kisses. It was like kissing a stuffed toy.

One day, I couldn’t resist after seeing how upset she was thanks to Bogum. I couldn’t bear seeing her heart break, so at that moment, I was absolutely certain that I wouldn’t hold myself back anymore. I planned everything. I knew she would fall asleep during a long car ride and I wanted to take her somewhere far away. The beach was an ideal choice because I could throw her in the ocean and use that as an excuse to get her to the hotel to get changed. Our family owned a hotel close to a popular beach location, so the staff would be able to accommodate us. I knew that Gemma couldn’t stand losing, so a game of tag along with the ability to grant her a wish would entice her to be more playful. When she buried me as a mermaid, that really became the best reason to get her into the water. The best thing was that she wouldn’t suspect anything.

I also knew that the suite had an open bathroom layout. Gemma would be too distracted by the coldness of her wet clothes that she wouldn’t realize that the bathtub and the master bedroom were connected. I would get a good view of her and then join her. I wanted to also see how far she would be willing to go with me. Surprisingly, she seemed to go along with my plan even though she lightly told me to go away. I decided to do the ultimate test. I kissed her deeply, and she reciprocated.

I backed off to cool myself off. I knew if this kissing progressed, things would escalate. Thus I acted like nothing had happened. I even offered to blow dry her hair, hoping to make her see my considerate side. The truth was that I had always wanted to brush my hands through her hair. I know I probably sound disgusting, but like I said, I’ve been poisoned.

Then she asked that question: “Do you do this for all of your exes?”

I sensed jealousy and wanted to explore that emotion further. I wanted to push her to admit that she liked me, yet when she told me that she wasn’t jealous. I got mad. I tugged on her hair as a little punishment for her lie. It was clear from her stuttering that she cared. She even asked the question first. I pretended not to be mad at her by joking. Gemma, however, made the situation worse by offering to sit on the counter. I could see her half exposed chest from the pajama top that was still too big for her when she leaned forward to let me blow dry her hair. I even noticed her face turning red and when she closed her eyes, I couldn’t resist kissing her . . . only to get bitten.

I knew that she wouldn’t admit her feelings for me, so I had to use some excuse to be able to kiss her in the future. I offered to teach her how to kiss, and she took the bait. Out of the blue, Gemma gave me a peck on the lips, catching me off guard. I could feel my desires increasing again, so I ignored her and decided to head for bed with my hair wet.

Whenever I slept with my hair wet, I would get some sort of cold or fever. I purposely delayed taking a bath just to increase my chances of getting sick. I wanted to test whether Gemma would look after me. If she did, that meant she cared for me. Fortunately for me, Gemma was very considerate and kind. She even followed those pathetic romantic comedies where the girl would feed the guy medicine by kissing him. Of course I would throw up or gag in front of her if I were really asleep. I also took this chance to let a few words slip from my mouth and hoped that she would be able to decipher my clear hints.

_"I-I-I've . . . always been watching."_

_"Watching?"_

_"Why can't you look at me . . . too?"_

Stupid, stupid Gemma didn’t get that at all! I was very pissed, but I still had to act like I was asleep. When Gemma started to wipe my sweat off of my body, I was getting restless. I really wanted to embrace her, yet I had to act like I was completely knocked out. Life was getting awfully hard when she kept touching my crotch. I peeked at why she was doing that, yet I couldn’t understand it. She just kept rubbing my penis until . . . she finally gasped and recognized what she was doing. The funniest part was seeing how she was looking in her phone on ways to get rid of an erection. Then, she even tossed the blanket on me only to find that that wouldn’t work. I was afraid that I would burst out laughing, so I gave up and pretended that I just woke up and had no idea what was happening. I wanted to watch her explain herself.

Of course, I didn’t want to give her a tough time, so I excused myself to masturbate quickly to get rid of the erection. It wasn’t too difficult to ejaculate when I knew that Gemma was in the other room and that I imagined her continuing to stroke me. The difficult part was when Gemma asked me how I made my erection go away. I wanted to throw the difficulty back at her by saying the truth. I also needed to start shedding my good boy image. Slowly, I’d let her into my dark soul, and hopefully, little by little, she’d accept me and fall for me.

But I was impatient . . . so I demanded to know whether she really loved Bogum. It was clear to me that she did feel some sort of connection with me, yet I could tell that she had been very upset with Bogum saying that she was only a little sister. Not to my surprise but to my dismay, she said, “Yes.” She could kiss him.

I didn’t want to speak to her anymore. I just wanted to be alone. I had to get used to being alone again right? Eventually she would leave me for him, and I would have no choice but to let her go and hope for the best.

But . . . I never expected this feeling of despair and anguish to get to me. After this whole incident, I started to drink the next day. I drank, hoping to numb myself. I decided to go for a drive, only to notice on my phone’s calendar that it was Jihan’s birthday.

_You never need to work for anything yet you get everything._

That’s not true, Jihan. I don’t get everything. I never get who or what I love.

I drive faster and press on the pedal more.

_Serves you right. You’re scum._

“Shut up!” I yelled.

_Now look who’s ruined? Murderer. No one is ever gonna love you after all._

Slam. Screech. Crash.

I really thought that maybe my life would be over then, but somehow I could hear Gemma’s voice.

_Dying from a DUI? That’s pathetic! You can’t be serious right? Get a hold of yourself, Hoseok!_

My eyes blinked a few times and adjusted to the sound of the engine dying. I listened to the faint sounds of the ambulance, so I thought I’d be physically okay.

Then, I remembered the limp body of Gaston and all the broken memories. Gemma’s face came up in my mind too. She probably would be upset with me. There would be that grimace, that signature look of disapproval.

Please . . . stay.

I promise.

I promise I won’t ruin you.


	10. Officially Yours

When I arrive at the police station, Hoseok is sitting in a cell, looking disoriented. He has a caste over his left arm, which I know will be troublesome for him since he is left-handed. His hair is all ruffled, his shirt is stained with some blood, and his eyes are blood shot red. Still, when he sees me, he greets me with a casual grin and has flustered cheeks. He’s a drunkard at this point.

“Heyo.” Hoseok raises his right hand slightly while leaning forward in his seat.

“Don’t heyo me!” I yell and cross my arms. “What were you even thinking?”

“A lot,” he says.

“What do you even mean by that?” I wonder.

As he stands up to trail behind me to exit the jail cell, Hoseok answers, “I’m sorry, and thanks for coming by. I appreciate it.”

His phrases sound so generic and so forced. They’re too polite to be from him. Why does it feel like he is treating me like a stranger?

“You’re scheduled for your court hearing next Thursday. I’ve asked another friend of mine who’s the expert in criminal law to go with you,” I tell him.

“Thanks again. I’ll make sure to pay your friend well,” he utters.

That word ‘pay’ makes me mad. I never expected him to pay anything or anyone. We’re friends and we’re closer than a business relationship. I also don’t understand how Hoseok can act as if nothing big occurred. He broke his arm. He drove while intoxicated. He might have killed himself. How can he not value his life more? How can he be this irresponsible? What bugs me even more is that when we are done signing some papers and are heading out of the entrance to the police station, Hoseok moves in the opposite direction as me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I snap at him.

“Home?” he replies with a confused look and swings a bit back and forth.

“And how do you even think you’re going to go home?” I question. “You can’t even keep your balance.”

“I’m fine, Gem.”

His words seem to slur a bit, causing me to retort, “You’re not fine. You’re staying with me for the night. I don’t trust you. Who knows what might happen now? You might even get hit by a car.”

Hoseok still doesn’t obey me and starts to march off. I sprint towards him and grab onto his right arm. “Stop!” I demand and try to drag him the other way. “You’re coming with me!”

“Gem, just let me—“

“I’m not letting you go.” I hold my ground and exert all the weight I can onto his arm. “Even if you push me away, I . . . am not . . . l-l-letting you go.”

I can’t believe how silly I’m acting. I’m clinging desperately onto his sleeve. My head is hanging low and I can feel that discomfort lodged in the back of my throat. My eyes are attempting to stay wide open so I don’t blink. Because once my eyelids flicker, a tear might roll down.

Hoseok encircles me and gently rests his chin on my head. As I lean close to his chest, he tells me in a soft tone, “Don’t cry. I don’t deserve your tears.”

“So . . . so . . . you’ll come home with me?” I glance up and ask.

“I don’t really have that much of a choice, right?” he remarks.

I smile and exhale a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he is listening to me now. I call for a taxi and we head back together to my place. During the ride, I’m tempted to return to that topic of him drinking and driving. I still don’t understand why he would be so reckless. Was it after that incident at the hotel? After I admitted that I would be able to kiss Bogum? If that bothered him that much . . . I remember what Wheein said to me during dinner.

_“More?”_

_“He makes sure that no guy can get close to you.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Do you know why no guys have ever approached you or why none of your potential dates ever seem to work?” Wheein notes._

_“Because I’m not that popular? My personality is a turn off?” I guess._

_“No. It’s because of Hoseok.”_

_“What?”_

_“He would make sure to be by your side at all times. He would tell your dates that you were dating him or purposely post images of you two being together.”_

But I don’t understand how he can be so upset that he would drink and drive and get into a car accident. His actions seem almost too irrational and too out of character. I know he is spontaneous and takes risks, yet he never goes too far.

“You look like you want to say something,” Hoseok finally says after paying for the ride.

As we walk to the entrance of the apartment building, I utter, “It’s just that . . .”

“Gem, I think we should go on a practice date some time,” Hoseok changes the subject.

When we reach the elevators, I ask, “Why?”

“You’re going to go after Bogum right?” he checks with me.

I press the button to the twelfth floor upon entering the elevator since Hoseok has a hard time reaching for that button. “I don’t get why you’re bringing him up right now. You should be more worried about yourself,” I inform him.

“There’s nothing to worry about me,” he answers.

“You were drinking and driving! Your arm is—“

“Gem, stop worrying about me,” he interjects with a stern gaze. “We’re both adults. I can take care of myself, so after tonight, just stop treating me like a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child!” I holler. “I care about you.”

His icy, calm voice declares, “I don’t need your concern.”

I feel my heart sink upon hearing that sentence. He doesn’t need me anymore? I’m not even considered his best friend? Why is he putting this distance between us? I don’t understand. I don’t like this at all. I don’t . . .

“D-Did I do something that bothered you?” I wonder as the doors open to the twelfth floor.

We step out and when we walk side by side, he responds, “It’s just me. I’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

Hoseok speeds up his footsteps, and I have to jog a bit to catch up to him. Somehow, I feel like if I don’t hold onto him. He’ll run away again when it’s obvious that there is only a hallway and he can only go left or right. My gut says to go after him, and I do grab onto the back of his jacket. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around his back and suggest, “Don’t keep everything to yourself. If you need someone to talk to, I’m . . . here for you.”

We stay in this position for a minute or so. I can feel his heart beating as my palms press into his chest. His heart seems to pump faster after each passing second. “You . . .” he finally mutters.

“Me?”

“You can’t stay here forever,” he responds. “You’ll leave some day too.”

I can feel him trying to resist my hug, so I embrace him tighter. “That’s not true!” I contest. “I’ll always be there for you!”

His right hand still pries my grip off of his body. Turning to face me, Hoseok grins politely and notes, “One day, you will fall in love, get married, start a family, and forget about me.”

“Don’t say that! That’s not what will—“

“It’s normal, Gem.” He pats me on the head. “It’s how normal people live.”

“And yourself?” I pose.

“Well, I don’t really know about that marriage part. It’s probably safer for me not to marry right? You’ve seen my track record, and I’m not exactly—“

“Didn’t you say so before?” I blurt. “You just haven’t met the right person yet?”

“Haha.”

“Don’t laugh to try to stop talking about the subject,” I complain. “That’s what I hate about you sometimes. You’re always try to brush things off when really—“

“I think we should head into your apartment,” he again attempts to switch the topic, but for once I agree. We’re probably disrupting all the other neighbours.

Our chat takes a halt until we enter my apartment. While we slip off our shoes, I start the conversation again. “I have faith in you,” I tell him. “You’ll find the right person.”

“Haha,” he repeats.

“I’m being serious here.”

“I wasn’t joking either,” he ventures to the kitchen and remarks.

He opens the fridge like he owns this place and reaches in to grab an apple. He is about to take a bite into that apple when I shout, “Stop! Stop! You have to wash it and you need to cut it. It’s bad for your teeth and jaw if you eat an apple like that.” Although Hoseok finds the knife and the cutting board, I immediately notice that cutting anything will be hard for him. “Let me do it,” I rush to his side and tell him.

“I’m fine, Gem. I can—“

Chop.

The knife slips from the slippery surface of the apple and Hoseok cuts his finger. “Don’t lick your finger!” I shriek. “Just hold on!” I find a paper towel and make him put pressure on his wound. “Keep holding onto your finger like that to stop the bleeding.” Meanwhile, I go to my emergency first aid kit and find my antibiotic ointment and a Band-Aid. “Is it still bleeding?” I ask after several minutes pass.

“Yeah, I think so.”

I squeeze a bit of the gel onto Hoseok’s finger, causing him to wince. “Sorry,” I mumble before quickly putting the Band-Aid on his wounded area. “There.”

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t do anything now,” I instruct him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Haven’t eaten since the morning.”

I want to yell at him but after seeing that he has cut himself and has a broken arm, I keep my anger to myself. “I’ll make something,” I utter. “Let me check what I have in the fridge.”

“I’m pretty sure you can make some fried rice,” he proposes. “I saw some eggs, some slices of pork, green peas, leftover rice, and carrots.”

I snicker and go to the fridge to grab the ingredients he requested. “You really saw everything huh?” I chuckle.

“You don’t really buy different things either,” he says.

“Well sometimes I buy some unknown fruit.”

“But you always stick with the same vegetables. I get bored cooking those, you know?” he mopes.

“Don’t complain now when I’m cooking for you,” I retort.

He strolls to the tall chair at the Kitchen Island and takes a seat in his usual spot. “Yes, Ma’am,” he adds, “but can you at least try to chop the vegetables evenly sized?”

I glower at him as I wash the carrots. “I’ll do my best,” I grumble.

“Good. It really bugs me when you have different chunks of vegetable sizes in a dish.”

“Perfectionist,” I snort while peeling the carrots. “Maybe that’s why you have problems finding the right girl.”

Casually, Hoseok cocks his head to the side and explains, “The problem isn’t finding her per say. It’s more like getting her to realize that I’m the right guy for her.” When he ends this sentence, our eyes meet, and I really don’t get why I’m avoiding his gaze. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. This isn’t a message for me. He’s just voicing his opinions. Focus on cooking, Gemma, I keep brainwashing myself in my head. Don’t read into his words too much. However, he seems to enjoy teasing me because he even throws in these words: “You know, it’s like we just got married, and you’re cooking me a late night snack.”

My ears grow redder and I’m already sweating through the back of my shirt. I’m begging that he doesn’t see some sweat stains somewhere. “Stop joking,” I beg.

“It was just an observation,” he corrects himself.

“Right.”

“And . . . if married life is like this, then I wouldn’t mind getting married,” he informs me. Once more, he gawks at me coyly, causing me to be very confused. Is this really supposed to be directed at me? Am I thinking too, too much? Probably right?

I stammer while slicing the meat thinly, “You . . . You say that the issue isn’t finding the right girl, but about  . . .”

“Her realizing that I’m the right guy. That’s right,” he verifies.

“H-H-Have you told her yet then?” I ponder. “About how you feel?”

Hoseok heaves a sigh. “I’ve hinted her many times, but she’s dense.”

“M-Maybe you should say it directly, you know?”

“Haha.”

Hoseok is always like this. Whenever he wants to avoid answering a question, he will laugh. I remember that time when I asked him about his family. He just laughed as well. When I asked him about dating, he also laughed too. When I questioned him about why he can’t settle, he laughed. Most people would think that he’s okay, but I know . . . deep down, he is hiding his feelings. He doesn’t want to face them. I sometimes wonder why he is scared to explore how he feels. Something is holding him back, and I wonder what.

I’m beginning to toss everything in the pan when I decide to suggest, “I think it’s worth a shot. Just telling her directly. You know, just get it over with?”

“You really sure about that?” he asks me.

“Yeah. Why not? It’ll be more efficient rather than dragging this on. Worst off, what can happen? You’ll just get rejected and you move on,” I clarify. Hoseok stays silent, too silent until I finish cooking. When I set the plate of food in front of him and hand him a spoon, Hoseok stares at me intently, to the point where I feel like I’m naked. “What? Is there something on my face?” I verify and proceed to grab a glass of water.

“Gemma Fan,” Hoseok seems to start a public service announcement. “It’s you.”

“What’s me?” I furrow my eyebrows together.

“That girl is you,” he voices without taking his eyes off of me. “Gemma, I’m in love with you.”

Bang.

I drop the glass right onto the floor. The cup shatters into hundreds of tiny specks. I bend down to pick up a few shards but stupidly cut myself.

“Ow,” I mutter to myself. Hoseok comes over with a broom and a pan, but I know he can’t sweep anything with a broken arm. I’m about to grab the broom from him when he seizes my cut finger and sucks on it like a vampire. “That’s not—“

He continues to seemingly drink the blood oozing out. As his lips press against my index finger, I can’t help but feel shy. His confession starts echoing in my ears.

_Gemma, I’m in love with you._

Wheein was right. I was oblivious. I was so dense. I can’t believe it. Why was I so blind? Why couldn’t I see or was I afraid to face his affection? Was I the one that forced him to laugh whenever I asked some awkward question? These questions keep rushing through my head, and I feel like I’ve been caught in a web of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” I blab.

He lets me go and smiles weakly at me. “I guess that’s a rejection right? But I’ll get over it right?”

“I . . . I don’t know anymore,” I confess.

“Don’t know about what?” he barks.

“If I share . . . the same type of feelings towards you,” I reply.

“Do you ever think about me when I’m not by your side? Do you want to share whatever you think is funny or interesting with me? If you need help, do you think of me first?” He starts attacking me with all these tough questions.

I answer, “But . . . that happens with my other friends too. I do miss them when they’re away. I ask them for advice too.”

“Do you dislike kissing me?”

I think back to those times we kissed. I don’t think I ever rejected him? I didn’t feel like it was gross for him to touch me. “No?” I reply. “I don’t think so?”

“Have you ever thought of kissing me?”

“I . . . don’t think so?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Hoseok isn’t ugly. The word handsome didn’t automatically come in my mind. I know that objectively he is good looking, but did his good looks make my heart swoon? No. “I . . . don’t think you’re ugly?” I mumble.

“If . . . Bogum and I were both drowning in the ocean, who would you save first? Both of us can’t swim,” he tests me. “The first person that comes in your mind. Don’t think so deeply about this question. Just answer it based on instinct.”

The answer?

You.

I bury my hands in my face. I picked Hoseok. This is too mortifying. No! I’m not supposed to even think about him in that way. He’s just my friend, but . . . friends don’t kiss right? Friends don’t see each other naked? Friends don’t do crazy favours? I always wondered why I could let myself get slapped in the face every time a girlfriend of his comes by.

“Gemma? Your answer?” Hoseok pushes me to say something. I look backwards, afraid to admit the truth to him. My embarrassment, however, signals to Hoseok the response. He celebrates by pulling my chin towards him and giving me a long kiss. “I’ve been waiting for five years for this,” he tells me with one of the brightest smiles I’ve seen.

“B-B-But I didn’t even say yes,” I point out.

“I can read you like a book,” he warns me. “Say . . .”

“What?” I notice his sly eyes smiling like a fox. I know he is up to no good at this rate.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“You never asked to kiss me the first time, so why are you asking now?” I argue.

“Because those didn’t count,” he remarks. “I tricked you out of those kisses. I want one where you and I both are aware that we’re kissing because we’re in love with each other.”

The word “love” makes me blush and become uneasy. I take one step backwards out of anxiety, but that one step really meant stepping on a shard of glass. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” I scream in pain and jump in the other direction. As I sit in a safe area where there are no glass shards, Hoseok squats down to my level and looks at the sole of my left foot.

“You want me to disinfect that area?” he suggests.

“That’s gross! I haven’t washed my feet yet.”

He ignores me and lifts my leg up so that his lips press against my calf. “You still owe me a proper kiss,” he reminds me, “and after I get rid of this cast, I can carry you to bed and teach you—“

“How can you say these things out loud without even getting embarrassed at all?” I bellow as he wipes the blood from my cut with a clean cloth.

“Because now that I’m sure how you feel, there’s no point in hiding anymore. You’ve made me wait too long. I wasn’t going to marry because of you.”

My God. He keeps killing me with all these cheesy yet fatal lines. Where does he even learn how to deliver these punch lines? Did he watch some dramas and learn from those male actors? Has he said these things to other girls too? Is that how he got them? Am I just a game?

“I’m serious, Gemma Fan,” Hoseok declares. “I wouldn’t marry anyone but you.”

“But I—“

“I know you don’t love me like that yet, but I’m confident that I can make you crazy over me.” He dabs some ointment onto my cut and adds, “I’m also sure that no one will ever love you as much as I do and that I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

“A-A-Are you . . . is this a . . .”

“I guess this is a proposal,” Hoseok validates my suspicions.

“This is going way too fast.”

“Technically, our romance has been like snail mail. I’m just making sure that we get up to speed.”

“But I—“

“I can put the proposal on an indefinite hold. Until you can say I love you to me, I won’t propose,” he adjusts his original statement. “Okay. Here’s your Band-Aid. I’m just going to go back and eat. If I don’t eat, I think I’ll faint. I also can’t really help sweep the floor given that I broke my arm, so I think you should first give the floor a sweep.”

What?!

How can Hoseok just switch to his normal mode with a snap of his fingers? Why do I seem like the one that’s panicking? There’s too much going on. All in one night. I don’t know why he has to fast forward our situation so quickly.

“So . . . does this mean that . . .” I let my sentence trail off.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hoseok huffs once. “I’m your boyfriend/fiancé on hold. You’re my girlfriend/fiancée on hold. And we’re not acting this time.”

What?!


	11. Start of Something New

Wheein nearly chokes on her mouthful of chickpeas and romaine lettuce when I tell her the news over lunch break at work. In between her moments of recovery where she continues to drink on water and beat her chest like a gorilla, she keeps sputtering seemingly nonsensical words like “Thank . . . I’m . . . can’t . . . so . . . happy . . . fuck . . . finally.” When she finally regains her ability to speak coherently, she orders some cocktails for us.

“It’s the afternoon!” I insist. “I can’t go back to the office smelling like alcohol.”

“Chill girl,” she ignores me and waves for the nearby waitress to come by. “It’s just one drink. It’s not going to make you an alcoholic, and this is something to celebrate. Also, it’ll be on me because . . . god damn, finally. My drama saga is coming to a happy arc and the couple I’m rooting for is getting it on!”

“Shh!” I try to silence her as we’re in a restaurant that my colleagues sometimes frequent. I’d rather them not know about my love life.

After Wheein places an order for drinks, she turns her attention back to me and scoffs, “I can’t believe he had to use that age old who will you save if they’re both drowning scenario to get you to pick him. It’s only when someone has to hypothetically die for you to start noticing who you love huh? Though . . . he did break his arm to get to ask that. Mm . . . what a poor guy.”

“Love . . . th-th-that’s too strong of a word,” I stammer quietly and proceed to disguise my shyness by biting onto the straw in my glass of water.

“You sure you don’t love him yet?” Wheein questions. As my head droops down, Wheein assures me, “It’s okay. I’m sure you’ll realize your feelings soon. He already said he’ll wait for you to fall for him completely before asking you to officially marry him. Not to mention he even said that he’ll convince you to fall for him.”

“Yeah, but . . . I didn’t expect things to turn out this way, you know?”

“Heck I didn’t think he had it in him to spill everything. I guess a car accident can do amazing things to someone.”

“A car accident isn’t a good thing, Wheein,” I scold her. “He’s lucky enough that he only broke his arm.”

“Yeah and because of that, he is now staying at your place? Did I get that right?”

“. . . Um . . . about that—“

“And you were the one that offered.”

“For one night only.”

“And then?”

“And then  . . .”

_Hoseok ate his dinner as if nothing had happened. He washed all of the dishes, cutlery, and the frying pan. Then, he acted like this was his home and headed to the washroom. I heard a loud clang and immediately, I sprinted to his location. Luckily, he only closed the door and didn’t lock it._

_“What happened?” I shouted, only to find that the shower head had landed on the floor._

_“I was thinking of how I would take a shower.”_

_“You can’t get your caste wet, you know that?” I told him._

_“Yeah, so—“_

_“Hang on. Let me grab you a plastic bag.” I rushed to the kitchen and opened one of my drawers to find a large plastic bag with a drawstring. Then, I dashed to the washroom again to hand him the bag. “Here. Just wrap that around you.” Watching him struggle with tying the knot, I decided to do that for him. Then, I thought of how hard it would be for him to wash his hair, so I offered, “I’ll help you shower. Let me grab a chair and you can sit in it.” Before he could even voice his opinion, I ran off again. I found an extra chair in the living room that I used to lay my clothes on top of it. Then, I moved the chair to the shower. Luckily, my shower is large enough to fit in a chair. “There you go! Now sit,” I ordered and patted on the seat a few times. I stood behind the chair, waiting for him to come towards me._

_Hoseok looked at me hesitantly before uttering, “I’m going to take off my clothes.”_

_“I-I-I-I-I  . . . k-k-know,” I stutter and glance at the corner. “J-J-Just wrap a towel or something around that . . . that part.”_

_“All right . . . if you say so.”_

_I heard the sound of his clothes rustling, meaning that he was really stripping. My eyes were closed firmly as I kept reminding myself that there was nothing to get embarrassed over. I was just helping him shower when he broke his arm. When the sound of his footsteps became louder, I knew that he was about to sit down. My heart was beating louder and louder._

_“I can open my eyes now right?” I wondered._

_“I don’t mind you opening your eyes any time,” he teased._

_“No, I mean, like are you sitting in the chair? There’s a towel around that area right?”_

_“Right. Right,” he mumbled. My eyes opened and he was sitting obediently in the chair with the plastic bag still wrapped around his arm. I stood there for a good minute before he grumbled, “Can you at least . . . turn on the water? It’s getting kind of cold.”_

_“Oh! Sorry,” I apologized and walked over to twist the knob. I was too stupid though because I forgot to hold onto the shower head. From the way that the shower head was positioned, all of the water ended up hitting my body. “Ah!” I shrieked until Hoseok passed me the shower head with his right hand. His pass made the situation worse because he aimed right at my chest. “Oh god. Now I have to shower later.”_

_“We can do a repeat of last time,” he suggested. “I don’t mind.”_

_“L-L-Let’s just stick with the original plan,” I stammered and rushed behind him with the shower head in my hand and a bar of soap in my other hand._

_I rubbed the soap on his neck and then down his chest. He leaned forward in the chair to let me wash his back. The awkward part was that I now I had to wash his legs and since my arms were too short to reach them from behind, I had to face him directly. I knelt down and swiped the soap along his legs and thighs. Then, I washed the soap bubbles away. I tried to do this very quickly without meeting Hoseok’s gaze, yet I could still feel the intensity of his stare. My cheeks were beginning to sizzle and the steam from the hot water wasn’t helping._

_“Gem,” Hoseok finally said._

_“Yeah?”_

_“I can see your bra clearly. I think it’d be better if you just showered with me,” he proposed._

_His comment took me by surprise, leading me to accidentally angle the water right in his face. “Ah,” he complained while trying to get water out of his eyes._

_“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Let me just grab—“_

_Hoseok held onto my arm and used my sleeve to clear his eyes. His fast grip caused me to lose balance, but fortunately, I landed right on his lap. Wait . . . no. Not fortunately. It was awkwardly. Since he couldn’t hold all of my weight with one arm, I was clinging onto his neck. He even snuck in a peck on my lips._

_“Sorry,” he stated. “It was too tempting.”_

_“I-I-I’m going to get—“_

_“Now that you’re all wet, you should really just shower with me,” he interrupted._

_I jumped up and ignored his comment. I grabbed the shampoo in the corner and squeezed some in my hand. Then, I washed his hair. There was no interruptions until I sneezed. “Atchoo!”_

_“See?” Hoseok reminded me. “You’re going to get a cold again if you’re wearing wet clothes. Plus, your hair is wet now.”_

_I thought about what he said and . . ._

“Girl, you really took a shower with him?” Wheein nearly leapt from her seat.

“I still had my clothes on. I just washed myself with my clothes on and made him not look at me,” I professed.

Wheein plants her head on the table once. “God. Here I was hoping for some hot shower sex,” she grumbles. “You know I still don’t get how the showering part would lead to him . . . staying at your place until when?”

“Well . . . I just couldn’t stand seeing him struggle with the everyday stuff, you know? Like he had trouble putting on his clothes, cutting fruit, showering, etc.”

“So you’re like his nanny now?” Wheein confirms.

“I hope not?”

 Wheein giggles after tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “I guess guys don’t kiss their maids . . . unless they’re like some celebrities.”

“I guess?”

“Actually,” Wheein stabs her fork into a sliced tomato like a vicious hunter, “I think he is more like your pet. You feed him, bathe him, give him a place to sleep, etc. His name makes a good dog name, don’t you say?”

“Hahaha! Now that you put it that way, I think—“

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

My phone is vibrating all of a sudden, and I know from the caller ID that it’s Hoseok. “Hey,” I pick up and say.

“Are you around the office?” Hoseok questions.

“Yeah. I’m just having lunch with Wheein,” I reply. “Is something wrong?”

“I got some really good croissants and I was actually around where you work, so I thought I’d drop by.”

“Oh. That’s very nice of you!” I utter. “You know the restaurant right across from our building? The one that sells salads and organic food? You see it?”

Hoseok remarks, “Yeah. The one called Organza?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a minute or so then.”

“Okay. See you.”

Wheein leans forward and asks, “He’s going to be here? Why? I thought this was girl talk.”

“He said he has some croissants for me,” I explain.

Slapping her hand on her forehead, Wheein sighs. “Bribing you with food huh?” she moans.

I blink a few times, pondering, “Bribing me with food?”

“Argh!” Wheein crinkles her napkin and throws it onto the table. “Never mind. He’s one sly guy.”

“But he’s just giving me croissants?”

“Sometimes Gem . . . I really think that you should—“

“Think that she should what?” Hoseok approaches our table and takes a seat beside me. Since this restaurant uses couches for seats, Hoseok sits quite closely to me. “Long time no see, Wheein,” Hoseok greets her.

Wheein rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Thanks for interrupting us,” she adds.

“What did I interrupt exactly?” Hoseok asks innocently.

“You didn’t interrupt anything! We were just talking about boring girl stuff,” I lie.

Still, I notice Wheein glowering at him like a threatened wolf. Hoseok just pretends not to notice and shows me the box of croissants he brought with me. “They’re freshly baked. We hired a new French pastry chef at one of our hotels,” he declares.

When I see the lovely, crispy skin, I feel my heart swoon in happiness. “They look so yummy!” I compliment and instantly reach in to grab one, only to be slightly burnt by it. “Ouch,” I groan.

“Here,” Hoseok uses a clean napkin in the bag and wraps the napkin around the croissant before handing it to me. “Be careful when you bite—“

I take a huge crunch out of the croissant and feel the bits of bread crumble all over me. I’m trying to wipe the crumbs off of my shirt when Hoseok shocks me by brushing his finger along my lips. “You’ve got some there,” he tells me.

“Oh? Do I still have some on my face?”

“Here,” he notes. “I’ll clean it for you.”

Then, Hoseok plants a kiss on me in front of Wheein. Before he can do anything else, Wheein coughs very loudly. “Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” she harks, “but can you keep the action at home? I’m not really the type to enjoy watching a couple make out . . . even though I technically support you two.”

“Yeah, Hoseok,” I murmur. “D-D-Don’t do this in front of others.”

He snickers, “I didn’t want to waste food.”

I still don’t get how he can say all of these sentences so bravely. I’m too shy that I just feel my whole face singe. Why do I blush so often around him? Why can’t I just act normally?

“Hoseok, don’t take advantage of her like that,” Wheein warns.

“I’m not taking advantage of her,” he retorts and wraps his right arm around my waist. The table is blocking Wheein from seeing where his hand is resting, but I can feel him squeezing me tightly against his body. “I just like being affectionate,” he states and takes a good look at me.

I think this is too much for my little heart to take. His face is too close to me, and I’m not used to seeing him from this angle. Luckily for me, Wheein interjects, “Gemma, your lunch break is ending soon right?”

“Right!” I agree.

“I’ll grab the bill this time,” Wheein tells me, “because you didn’t even drink your alcohol.”

“Thanks. I’ll treat you next time.”

“I’ll walk you to the office,” Hoseok offers. I can’t really reject him, so I let him follow me. When we are at the lobby of the building and are waiting in front of the elevators, Hoseok gives me the bag of croissants so I can share with my other co-workers. Right before the elevator doors open, Hoseok states, “Gem.” I turn around and he bends down to kiss me on the cheek. “A bientôt, ma crevette.”

The elevators open, and before I know it, Hoseok already vanishes.


	12. First Date

Having a relationship and living with Hoseok aren’t what I had in mind at all in my future plans. Hoseok says I like to think too much sometimes. I know I sound like a perfectionist when I say that I plan my life ahead for five years, but I still find it safer to have that big picture about my life. Of course when something doesn’t exactly fit in the picture, I’m not really sure what to do.

For the past week, I’ve been looking after Hoseok and I have sort of gotten used to him sleeping on the same bed as me. I don’t have the heart to throw him on the couch, and I know if I keep sleeping on the couch myself, my back will start to hurt. I haven’t gotten used to waking up beside him and spontaneously getting a peck on my forehead in the morning. Plus, he’ll always mutter, “Bonjour, ma crevette.”

My French is mediocre at best, while Hoseok happens to be fluent in French and English. I keep wondering what he means by those words. I understand the “Bonjour”, but the last part . . . is a blur. I’m not even sure if I’m spelling it correctly, and other things at work distract me from looking it up in a dictionary. And then, of course, one day I snap and demand to know what he has been calling me. He won’t tell me, and so at work, I randomly pick the only French lawyer, Jean-Paul, at our office and ask him this silly question. The answer? Shrimp. So Hoseok has been calling me his shrimp. Jean-Paul asks why I want to know, so I give him a brief explanation about how a friend’s boyfriend has been calling her that. Jean-Paul has this overly cheesy grin as he says, “That can be a nickname for his lover.”

“A shrimp? Who would want to be called a shrimp?”

“It’s one of the better nicknames I think. There’s one called my flea, ma puce or even ma sardine. You could be called my mouse too,” Jean-Paul answers.

“You? Why are you . . .”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” he wonders. “I think Diana and Junho saw you with a guy at the lobby? He kissed you too?”

Crap. I just want to bury myself in a hole. Now the whole office knows about my relationship status. It’s bad because people here, though we are busy, we still enjoy our share of gossip. I happen to be one of the few single ones left, while everyone else is either married or in a steady relationship. Sure, there are a several divorced ones here as well, but they’ve married once right? One of the partners at our firm was about to introduce me to some people he knew just because he pitied me and thought I would never meet someone at our firm. At least that won’t happen anymore?

“So how long have you guys been going out?” Jean-Paul poses. The door to his office is still wide open, and I look back to check if anyone is hanging around the corridor. “You can close the door, you know?” he hints me.

I take his hint and then sit down in the chair across from him. “Technically we’ve known each other for several years now, but ugh . . . our circumstances changed recently,” I utter.

The only reason that I’m actually willing to talk to Jean-Paul about this is that he is known as the love guru here. All the girls flock to him whenever they have issues with their boyfriends, their husbands, or the guys that they’re crushing on. He is the love master and a well-known player. So today, my problem really is . . . I don’t really get how to be in a relationship. We haven’t even had a first date? We hung out too often before, so I don’t really know how a date would work.

“Ah I see,” he remarks in his slight French accent. “He made the move, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You’re not the type to confess,” he responds.

“True.”

“You’re here because you want to ask what to do now?”

“Exactly. I’ve known him for such a long time. I mean, I don’t dislike him, but I don’t feel like I . . . love him?”

Jean-Paul remarks, “You don’t have to rush things?”

“But . . . isn’t it weird how I don’t . . . get all crazy over him? Think about him a lot? No butterflies in my stomach?” I question.

“Not all kinds of love need that. I actually think the ones that grow slowly on you last longer,” he comments.

I argue, “B-B-But we haven’t even had our first date yet?”

“Then just set one!” Jean-Paul claps his hands together. “I have tickets that you can go to tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Just give me your phone and I’ll set it all up.”

“Okay?”

I unlock my phone, pick Hoseok on Facebook messenger, and then hand my phone over to Jean-Paul. He starts typing very quickly before he frowns and passes me the phone. “Look at this,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes, reminding me of Wheein’s reaction to Hoseok.

I’m thinking what did he do this time and when I see Hoseok’s response, I just chuckle.

_Me: Hey! I have two tickets to the museum for this evening~ U wanna go together? <3 <3_

_Hoseok: Who is this? Why are you using Gemma’s phone?_

_Me: wat are u talking about? It’s me!_

_Hoseok: . . . Please return her phone. She must have misplaced it somewhere. How did you figure out her password? Something is wrong. Gemma, if you’re playing a prank on me, cut it out._

_Me: I’m not!! :’( :’( why won’t u believe me?_

_Hoseok: Gemma doesn’t talk like this. The joke is getting cold, Gemma._

“I guess you better contact him yourself,” Jean-Paul remarks. Then, he pulls out two tickets from his leather messenger bag and tells me, “Here just take these. I think it’d be a good date night for you two.”

I look at the tickets and read aloud, “Museum . . . of War?”

“There’s a really special exhibition going on. I’m sure your boyfriend will enjoy it.”

“Is this . . . what guys normally like to do?” I ask.

“Yeah. Learning about history is interesting. Weapons are cool to see.”

“Okay . . .?”

“Trust me,” Jean-Paul places a hand on my shoulder. “Nothing will go wrong.”

\-----

Nothing will go wrong huh?

I really want to slap that Jean-Paul, throw a lot of macaroons at him, put a huge wig like that ones that Marie Antoinette wore in her portraits, and then banish him to the guillotine. When Hoseok arrives at the museum from work, his face clearly tells me that he is not a happy camper. He still has his suit on and I too am wearing business formal. Actually, the two of us share this . . . what the heck did we sign up for stare. Yeah, we’re both regretting coming here. How . . . romantic. War.

“So um,” I point to the poster and try to be happy about this first date, “that’s the special exhibit!” I take a look now to see what Jean-Paul has in store for us only to find that the special exhibition is on World War II. I’m not ready to face really sad stories.

“Are you really sure we’re going to do this?” Hoseok confirms.

“We’re already here and . . . these tickets . . .”

“It’s not like they are yours right?” he asks.

“A co-worker gave them to me,” I explain.

“And why did he do that?”

“He um . . . he just had some extra lying around?”

Hoseok frowns and demands, “Try again. Why was he using your phone to message me?”

“Um . . . Um . . . It’s kind of weird to explain, but—“

“I can handle weird.”

My hands are starting to feel clammy. I’m really not good at lying and Hoseok can obviously see through my bad acting. I really give up, so I clarify, “I . . . I . . . just wanted some advice from him.”

“About?”

“W-W-Well . . . it started with you!” I identify Hoseok as the culprit.

“What did I do?”

I ramble quickly, “You kept calling me this name, and I didn’t know what it meant, so I asked Jean-Paul at work since he’s French. He told me that it meant shrimp, and then somehow he started to give love advice. He’s really famous at the office for being the love guru, you know? I just thought that . . . umm . . .”

“Why didn’t you discuss it with me?” Hoseok wonders. “You’re in a relationship with me. You don’t need to involve an outsider.”

“It’s . . . awkward to talk to you about it directly. I mean . . . I don’t know how to word it properly anyway. I just . . . I just don’t understand how this whole dating thing works!” I sputter. “We’ve hung out so many times already, so what exactly is a date? I don’t think we’ve had any dates yet?”

“And so you thought coming to a Museum of War would be a good idea for a proper date?” Hoseok interrogates while pointing to the large sign showing that painting of Napoleon along with lots of swords behind him.

“I wasn’t convinced at first, but Jean-Paul said that—“

Flick.

Hoseok flicks my forehead and then pinches my nose. “Jean-Paul this, Jean-Paul that. His advice is bullshit,” he lectures. “Don’t ever listen to that guy.” Before I say anything, Hoseok holds onto my hand and directs us away from the museum. “We’re not going somewhere to ruin our first date.”

First date. Where is he taking me exactly?

My expectations are building up too much. When I’m sitting in his car, I’m getting all giddy and excited. Are we going to go to the movies? Maybe we’ll go star gazing? Perhaps he’ll take me to dessert?

No.

He takes me to his apartment and when he turns on the lights of his living room, I see a tent set up in the middle of the area. He walks over and unzips the entrance, announcing, “We’re camping indoors.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry. I bought some pajamas for you,” he explains. “I have the fire place ready so we can make some smores. I also thought of what we can do.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Thirty six questions that lead to love.”

“Thirty six questions?”

“I think we actually don’t know each other as well as we think we do,” he states, “and I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Instantly, I blurt, “You have herpes?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Oh. Thank god,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Then you have some kid out there?”

“No! What is seriously in your brain?”

“I just wanted to be sure,” I murmur. “This is going to take all night . . .”

“Which is why I set up a tent!” he cheerfully remarks.

The night starts off pretty easy, and Hoseok is right that I didn’t know him as much as I thought I did. I never knew that his perfect day would be to relax at home on a Saturday. I always thought he would have wanted to go on some adventure. I never knew that he had to rehearse before making phone calls. I thought I was the only one there. I also didn’t know that he felt the most grateful for meeting me. That made me feel a bit uneasy. I only said that I was grateful that I was educated. He told me that that was fair enough. When we got to question ten, I think that was when things started to become more serious.

“If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?” I read the question aloud from Hoseok’s laptop.

“That . . . You want to go first?”

“Actually,” I answer, “I’d rather you go first.”

“Do I have to answer this?” he grumbles while lying on his stomach in the tent.

“You’re the one that suggested to play this,” I remind him before munching on the last smore on the plate, “and I’m honestly curious. You hardly talk about your family.”

Hoseok lies his head on his arms and mumbles, “There really isn’t much to say about them.”

“Did you hate your childhood then?” I wonder.

“There wasn’t much to hate,” he explains. “My parents gave me everything.”

“But?”

Hoseok rubs some chocolate off of the corner of my lips and says, “I just had the standard rich kid’s childhood. Busy parents who would spoil their kids with gifts.”

“So it was Christmas every day?”

He then pushes some of my hair back against my ear and responds, “If I wanted it to be . . .”

“I feel like you’re not telling me the full story,” I point out and gently grab onto his hand. I hold onto his hand to reassure him. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

“Have you ever . . . hated your sister? Your mother clearly prefers your sister over you,” he utters.

I let out a sigh and think about that question for a while longer. “It’s hard to say,” I respond. “I wish my mother would care about me more and I wish my sister wasn’t . . . you know . . . But . . . at the end of the day, she’s still my sister.” I force a grin at him and then I feel his grasp tighten around my fingers.

“Your sister is very lucky to have you,” he comments.

“Thanks.”

Hoseok then lifts our hands up and his lips land rest softly on my knuckles. I can feel his slightly chafed lips press on my skin. “If she hurts you in any way, I’ll be there to protect you,” he declares.

I giggle at his seriousness and scrunch my eyebrows together. “You’re worrying too much. She wouldn’t do that.” Hoseok has that face screaming “you never know” and before I can even debate about it with him, my phone starts to ring. “Hello?” I answer.

“Gemmie, it’s me!”

Without a doubt, I know it’s my sister speaking. “Yes?” I reply. “Is something wrong?”

“Why do you always think something is going to be wrong when I call? Sheesh!”

“Sorry,” I apologize.

“Whatever,” she murmurs. “Anyway, so I need to go dress shopping and you definitely need a gown for the wedding. I’m thinking that we should go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s really soon. I wish that you could have told me earlier.”

“You can’t make time for me at all? Gemmie, we’re sisters! I can’t believe that you—“

“No, I was just hoping that I got an earlier notice—“

“Do you know how hard it was to book an appointment at that famous wedding dress store, Reine?”

“No,” I mumble.

“Anyway, you better come. If you don’t come, Mom will get so pissed. I’ll send you the details after this call. Tata for now!”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Irene hangs up like that on me. It’s rude, but that’s just how Irene has treated me over the years. She has a message to deliver and when she finishes, she runs the hell out of there. I exhale a deep breath thinking about the pain of shopping with her and Mom, leading Hoseok to inquire, “Was that Irene?”

“Yeah.”

“What did she want?”

“She says I have to go try out dresses with her tomorrow.”

“You want me to come with you?” Hoseok suggests.

“I’m not sure. Isn’t that a bit unconventional and wouldn’t you be bored?” I ponder.

“I won’t be bored,” he assures me and scoots closer to me. His arm wraps around my waist, pushing my head towards him. “Maybe you can also try on a few wedding gowns.”

“You know it’s bad luck if the groom sees the bride’s dress before the wedding?” I stare up into his eyes.

“I don’t believe in those myths,” he retorts, “and we’re not officially engaged anyway.”

I snicker, “You’re honestly serious about marrying me? This isn’t a joke?”

Hoseok kisses my forehead and then says, “I don’t think I’ve been joking all this time.”

“I don’t even get why you like me,” I blurt and look up to him. I’m resting my head on his forearm and he looks down at me with a smug grin.

“Ma crevette,” he corrects, “it’s not like. It’s love.”

“Fine,” I adjust my sentence. “I don’t get why you even love me. I’m not beautiful. I might be smarter than the average girl, but I’m certainly not Einstein. My family isn’t particularly rich. I’m not like those super gentle women out there. I’m not that fashionable. I’m short. My body is average. I—“

“But you’re hardworking. You have a kind heart. You are smart enough. You’re charming. Your personality is refreshing. You’re not boring,” Hoseok lists, “and you make me look forward to each day. Most of all, I just want to be with you. I want to grow old with you.”

I’m feeling like a cherry tomato. How can he just rehearse this corny yet touching lines with such a straight, serious face? I’m the one squealing inside like Cupid shot an arrow right at my heart. Ding. Hoseok is really scoring some points.

When I turn to my side and move further away from Hoseok, he forces me into the corner of the tent. I can feel my breath bouncing off of the tent’s wall as he hugs me from behind. “I know you’re probably shy,” he declares, “and you probably aren’t used to of expressing your feelings out loud. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—“

“I feel bad,” I confess out of the blue.

“Bad about?”

“I’m . . . scared that I can’t . . .  um . . . love you to that extent.”

He hugs me a bit tighter while whispering in my ear, “I know, so . . . if you ever find me too overbearing, please . . . tell me and I’ll let you go.”

I can hear that minor crack in his voice—that dash of disappointment mixed with the fear of rejection. He has honestly placed his soul on a plate for me to examine, and I guess I have been rather cold to him. I place my hands around his and inform him, “I’ve never found you overbearing. I . . . always wondered how you knew when to be there, but I guess . . . now I know.”

Hoseok kisses the back of my neck delicately and slowly plants a trail of kisses down my back. All of a sudden, I feel him sucking on the area where my neck and collar bone meets. I’m pretty sure I’m getting some hickey thanks to him. “Just so you know,” he remarks, “I can be kind of possessive, so once this mark fades, I’m going to give you another one.”

“Th-Th-That’s unfair!” I glance back at him and complain.

“You can give me one every day,” he offers. “I’ll gladly accept it.”

“Y-Y-You—“

“You said it was unfair, so I’m making the situation fair,” he argues. Hoseok is right. His proposal is fair, but . . . I’m embarrassed by the thought of giving him a hickey. I don’t even know how. I probably have to Google this, yet Hoseok somehow reads my mind and suggests, “I can tell you how to give me a hickey.”

Believe it or not . . . Hoseok starts instructing me the hickey technique. He tells me to put my mouth on his neck as if I’m kissing his lips. Then my lips have to partly open to make the shape of an “O”. After, I need to suck on him like I’m a vampire or a leech. I have to suck hard enough that his blood capillaries in the skin will rupture. A minute later, I back away and see the mark that I have made.

“It’s a success!” I sit up and cheer. “I mastered the hickey.”

“Good,” he replies while leaning on the side of his body. “I look forward to more from you. Now, you should go brush your teeth and go to sleep. I’ll sleep after you.”

As I head to the washroom, I still wonder how Hoseok can act so calmly. Does he have this automatic on and off switch? Am I the only one feeling all nervous and clammy? Is this what experience gives you? No more butterflies?

But . . . Hoseok’s words seemed genuine.

_Most of all, I just want to be with you. I want to grow old with you._

Ah!

I can’t replay this scene in my head or else I’m going to act too giddy. I already sound like a fool. How can I be charmed so easily? Why does he have so much charisma? Someone . . . my little heart again can’t take Hoseok well. Maybe I need to see a cardiologist. Irregular heartbeats here.  


	13. Wedding Dress

Most girls have dreamt of wearing their dream wedding dress, yet I think I have never given much thought towards that. I always watched my sister dazzle in pretty clothes while I got mostly her hand-me-downs or wore simpler types of clothes. I never thought I really fit in with those glamorous items. I never really thought that I’d even be married someday. Even though I like to say that I want to get married, I never was able to picture the married life or even see myself walking down the aisle in a fancy gown.

Now that I’m surrounded by thousands of white or pastel gowns I panic. Luckily, I’m not the one picking out a wedding dress and Irene who is a major control freak would dictate what I’d wear at the wedding. She has a winter-themed wedding in mind, so she wants everything to be light blue and cream white. Irene already has printed out photos of the dresses she wants to try and a few for the bridesmaids to wear. For this wedding gown try out session, Irene brought our mother and her closest girlfriends, Yerin, Nayeon, and Taeyeon. They are all obnoxious, obsessed with beauty, and bitchy. Moreover, they’ve clung to each other since high school and you’d think high school would just be left in the dust after all these years. Nope. Not with these high school popular groups.

Then there is Hoseok and me. We’re just tossed in the mix, but obviously the three bratty gals bother Hoseok. They try to flirt with him while Irene is trying on her gowns. These three cling onto his arms so that their boobs will touch his skin. Stupid Hoseok doesn’t even resist them. He just keeps the friendly banter. I’m sitting across from them with my arms crossed while the four of them take over the couch. My leg keeps dangling back and forth in the air as I watch them proceed to ask him for his number.

A twig snaps in my head and I think that’s it.

“Hoseok,” I stand up from my seat and snap at him, “There’s a dress that I want to show you.”

I turn at my heel and march straight down and there are hangers and hangers of dresses that create a corridor. I hear Hoseok running after me and soon he swings his arm over my shoulders. “What dress do you want to try on?” he asks.

I keep shrugging my shoulder, hoping that he’ll understand that his weight is too heavy on me. “Get off. You’re too heavy,” I order.

Hoseok holds his ground and even stabilizes his hand on my bicep to stop me from rolling my shoulder. “Were you jealous back then?” he verifies.

“No!” I bark. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Then why are you so annoyed?”

“Well you’re the stupid one for letting them get all touchy with you!”

As soon as I finish that sentence, Hoseok’s hand slides down to my waist and lulls me closer to his body. He gives me a quick peck on the head and whispers, “Don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to say that. Since you don’t like that, I won’t let people touch me like that in the future, ma crevette.” Before I can scoff, Hoseok wanders to the side and pulls out several dresses. He piles them all in my hands to the point where I can’t even see what’s in front of me. “Here,” he hands some to me. “Try those on. I think they’d look nice on you.”

I look at all these intricate gowns and stammer, “Th-They’re wedding dresses. I’m supposed to be trying on bridesmaid—“

“Like I said before, it’s for future reference,” Hoseok tries to persuade me. “It’s not every day that you get to shop for these type of dresses.”

That’s true. It’s not every day that I can play dress up and get away with it, so I listen to Hoseok and find a sales lady to get the right sizes for these dresses. I randomly choose one and as I put it on, the sales lady barges in and lectures me. She says I am ruining the dress by wearing a pink bra and black underwear. She grabs a Nu bra for me to use and pressures me to take off my underwear. If not, the designer who happens to be at the store might throw a fit. Feeling kind of guilty for potentially ruining a piece of art, I obey her commands. When I look the mirror, I feel completely exposed. This is a very, very sexy wedding dress. It’s in sheer illusion tulle with lots of different types of lace. There are even little crystals stitched around the whole dress and everyone can see my silhouette due to how tight it’s hugging my skin. The sales lady says this is in a mermaid style, which I agree because how the dress tapers off my body is like Little Mermaid.

Without even warning me, Hoseok slides the curtain of the dressing room open and barges in. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was getting impatient. I think I can save us some time by sitting here.” He points to this grey cube at the corner and takes a seat there. He takes a minute to stare at me in the mirror, making me blush. I already feel naked yet I’m on some pedestal for him to examine. “You know,” he abruptly chimes while crossing one leg over the other. “I think we can save this for the bedroom and please go commando like you are doing now.”

Immediately, I cover my private part and try to shield my chest. “Do you want to try on the other dress?” the sales woman suggests.

“I can just help her,” Hoseok offers, “so you can help other customers.”

She shows a hesitant, puzzled face but since I’m too slow to object, she agrees, “Oh. All right. Just call me if you need different sizes.”

“W-W-Wai . . .”

Too late. She leaves me behind with Hoseok who claps his hands in a very aristocratic manner. “Come on. Chop chop.”

“Sheesh,” I mumble and step off of the raised area. “Can you at least close your eyes?” I pose.

He huffs, “Fine . . . even though I’ve seen it all.”

Quickly, I unzip the dress, slip on my underwear, and put on the next dress which is a simple, ball gown with no embellishments or lace. When I see myself in the mirror, I feel more at ease compared to the first one. This is completely safe and classic.

“So?” I ask Hoseok. “What do you think? I think this is pretty good.”

Hoseok gives me a thumbs down and even yawns. “It’s not memorable at all and it doesn’t reflect your personality,” he says. “I hate it. It’s way too plain.” He stands up and strolls to the gowns that are hanging across the room. Then, he picks this sweetheart dress that has a gigantic bow at the back. “I think this one will fit you.”

Knowing that Hoseok probably has better fashion sense than me, I follow his suggestion. When I put it on, everything seems to fit perfectly. I look skinny yet the right parts of my body are still emphasized in an elegant manner. The bow isn’t a distraction at all. While I twirl around in the gown to see how much I can move, Hoseok ends up standing behind me and places his hand on my shoulder.

“I told you,” he cheekily notes. “This one would be perfect.”

“Thanks.”

I giggle at his remark and am about to say something else when I hear Bogum’s voice. “Hey, Gemma,” Bogum calls out. “I heard you needed another opinion.”

“Yeah, come in,” Hoseok urges. I give Hoseok a puzzled stare, but he squeezes my shoulder once to tell me that it’s okay. “Sorry to tell you to come here,” Hoseok apologizes, “but we were really stuck on which dress she should wear.”

Hoseok called Bogum here? For what? This is too confusing.

“No problem,” Bogum replies. “I was going to come here anyway. Irene said she needed help.”

“Thanks,” Hoseok answers. “Oh wait. I have a missed call. I’ll be right back.”

Hoseok just leaves me like this? What? This is so awkward. I didn’t ask Bogum to even be here. What is this? I’m standing there not knowing what to do and then Bogum pops a question, “I had no idea you were going to get married too.”

“I’m not yet,” I correct him.

“Then why are you even trying on dresses?”

I find myself repeating Hoseok’s words, “For future reference.”

“You should think more carefully about marriage,” Bogum advises. “Anyway . . . since you called me here, I think . . . the one you have on isn’t for you. I think this one is right.”

Bogum chooses the second dress that Hoseok abhorred. The two of them really are at the opposite end of the spectrum. Why isn’t there some sort of middle ground?

“Really?” I check again. “Hoseok said that one was too plain and wouldn’t suit me.”

“Nonsense,” Bogum grumbles. “This bow doesn’t suit you at all. It’s way too much.”

“But . . .”

Bogum cuts me off, “Gemma, what’s that on your neck?”

“Did I get some cut again?” I mutter.

“No, it looks more like . . . a mosquito bite or . . .”

I now realize that Bogum is identifying that hickey that Hoseok gave me yesterday. Quickly, I place my hand over it and pretend to scratch at it a few times.

“I-I-It was a mosquito bite,” I lie.

“Aren’t you guys moving too quickly?” Bogum harks yet still maintains a polite smile. “You only started dating recently right? And you’re already thinking of marriage?”

“Well—“

“I’m ready,” Hoseok comes back to the dressing room and announces. “I’m just waiting for her to get ready.”

I see that he has changed into a black tuxedo with a bowtie. He looks as if he just finished a photo shoot with GQ. My heart skips an extra beat and my mouth just slips a compliment, “Wow. So this is where you went!”

“Yup,” he says and then turns to Bogum. Hoseok gives his cellphone to Bogum and asks, “Could you please take a photo of us?”

“S-Sure,” Bogum murmurs. He positions the camera and states, “Say cheese.”

Hoseok, of course, doesn’t heed to his command. Instead, he plants his lips on the side of my head. The shot is taken, but Hoseok adds, “Can you take another one? Thanks.”

This time, Hoseok makes me stand in front of him so that my back is to the camera. He even tells me to act like I want to him badly, so I cling onto his body. Likewise, Hoseok’s arm tightly wraps around my waist. You’d think that this would be the final shot, but Hoseok again demands another one be taken. This is after examining that the second photograph turned out fine. For the third picture, Hoseok lifts me up with one arm, supporting me in a way that I’m sort of sitting on his arm. Subsequently, he makes me smile at him. For the fourth and final shot, we are still in the same position, but this time Hoseok asks me to lower my head as far as I can. I’m stupid enough to follow his instructions and then of course, he kisses me.

“Thanks so much Bogum,” Hoseok notes while getting his phone back from him. “You’re a great photographer. You should consider taking it up as a hobby. Maybe we should ask you to take our future wedding photos. Isn’t that right, Gem?”

I scold, “Don’t abuse Bogum now. He was kind enough to take these photos.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bogum answers. “I’m glad I could help out.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that although Bogum is politely smiling at us, he is clenching one of his fists. Bogum always had that bad habit whenever he was secretly unhappy or frustrated about something. I guess Hoseok asking him to take so many photos was too much. I’m about to apologize, yet Hoseok opens his mouth faster than me.

“Hey,” Hoseok declares. “We should all hang out some time. You, me, ma crevette here and Irene. I’m not that busy nowadays, so I’m available to help you guys find the right menu for your wedding.”

“You didn’t have to help us that much,” Bogum replies. “Irene and I can probably handle things by ourselves.”

Hoseok scratches his chin and cocks his head to the side. “Funny,” he utters. “I was just talking to Irene the other day and she said she was really looking forward to my recommendations. I guess she hasn’t told you that?”

Bogum’s other hand also rolls into a fist, so I step in and speak, “I’m sure Irene got too carried away with shopping for dresses that this just slipped out of her mind. She probably would tell you after this.”

Checking his watch, Bogum tells us, “Oh. I think I better check up on Irene. See you guys later.”

Once Bogum leaves the dressing room, I yell at Hoseok, “What the heck was that for? Why’d you even call him here and then ask him to take photos of us?”

Hoseok whistles a bit and responds in a sing-song manner, “I just felt like it. Plus, why do you even care that much that Bogum was there?”

“I . . . It’s just . . . awkward.” I cling onto my own wrist and glance down at the floor.

“I see,” he murmurs coldly. “I’m going to get out of this tux and wait for you outside.”

“S-S-Sure.”

As I unzip this dress, I can’t help but sigh. I shouldn’t be that affected just because Bogum showed up. I guess it’s still not easy to get over my first love who never . . . loved me in the first place. I know. Pathetic. But . . . these things take time right?

I hang the dress with the bow back on its hanger and take another glance at the dress Bogum recommended. Is that normal one for me? I try on that ordinary dress again and examine myself in the mirror.

The sales woman says that she is coming in to check up on me and when she sees me in this particular dress, she moans, “Yuck. Not this one. I’d rather you wear the really sexy one.”

“It’s that bad?” I wonder.

“It’s not that the dress is poorly designed, but I just think . . . that you’d fit another style more,” she clarifies.

After I change back into my own clothes, Hoseok keeps his promise. He is leaning against a column beside this changing room with his eyes glued on his cell phone screen.

“What are you looking at?” I approach him and ask.

“Just the photos we just took,” he replies.

“How are they anyway? I don’t think I got a chance to see them at all.” I tip toe and peer over his shoulder, praying that I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of something. However, I’m still too short to see anything clearly.

“If you want,” Hoseok notes, “I can send them to you.”

“Sure. Why not?”

He taps the screen a few times and then tells me, “It’s sent. You can see if you’ve got them now.” I grab my phone that is buried in my purse and swipe through the messages. I see the four pictures and the one I accidentally zoom in on is the one where he kissed me on the lips. “I think the one you’re looking at is my favourite,” Hoseok points out.

“That dress really looked beautiful,” I let that thought slip through my mouth.

“I agree,” he says. “If you want, I can get it for you.”

“No, no, no. That’s okay.” I refute.

\--

A week later, I come back home to find a silver box tied with a fancy, white lace ribbon just lying on my living room couch. I see an envelope tucked in between the ribbon. There’s a “To: Gemma” on the front. One glance and I know that Hoseok has written it. I first open the envelope to find a card that has the words “Thank you”.

_Gemma,_

_I know you said that I shouldn’t get this for you, but I still did. Thank you for looking after me after I broke my arm. Thank you for staying by me. I’m not good with writing, so this is it._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Hoseok, aka Your Hope_

Your Hope. I giggle at that signature. He always likes to joke around that he is someone’s hope. He’s thinking too highly of himself. Haha. I hastily untie the ribbon on the box and pull at the wrapping paper. As soon as I open the cover, I see the dress that Hoseok said was perfect for me. When I’m hovering the dress over my body to see if the length has been fixed, Hoseok comes home from work.

“Oh, you got it,” Hoseok utters while slipping off his shoes. “I didn’t think it’d come this early, but it arrived at the office this afternoon and then I thought I’d just—“

“You’re so stupid!” I shriek and place the dress on the couch.

“Huh? Stupid?”

“Yes!” I scream and explode in fury. “You’re not supposed to give someone a wedding dress out of the blue! No one has even proposed to me and—“

Hoseok drops down to one knee and states, “I thought I’ve been obvious enough. I’m pretty sure I’ve proposed to you before, but since you’re slow at these things, I guess I better make myself clear. I want to marry you, but the question is . . . do you want to marry me?”

We’re separated by a couch and he is crouching on one knee surrounded by shoes. There’s no ring in his hand. There aren’t any fancy gimmicks as well. We’re just in my apartment. I don’t know what to say. I always thought he was half joking when he talked about weddings, yet he is gawking at me in a very serious manner. I know the longer I stall, the weirder it’ll be between us. We’ve only just started dating. We only had one first date so far and that was a week ago.

Aren’t you guys moving too quickly?

Before I say anything, Hoseok continues to talk, “Even if you don’t marry me in the end, I’d still want you to look your best on your wedding day.”

His words tug at my heart strings. Why does he have to be so selfless now? Why does he have to lay his heart on the table for me to potentially stab or caress? Why isn’t he even afraid . . . of rejection? Can I love him so much like that? I feel like I can only say yes if I really feel like I could do anything for him.

All of a sudden, Hoseok gets up and strides in my direction. He plops himself onto the couch and then encircles his arms around my waist.

“You’ll consider what I said right?” he verifies.

“Of course,” I reply. I can feel his hands trembling, so I hug him back. “I just . . . don’t want to rush things and give you false hope. You’re too good for me.”

“I’m not as good as you think.” He looks up at me and I sense an aura of darkness exuding from his ocean coloured eyes.

“As long as you’re good to me . . . that’s enough,” I mumble.

“Really?” he questions. “Is that really what you think?”

 “I believe in you,” I reply. Hoseok hugs me so strongly that I feel that my ribs might crack; however, I don’t complain. I let him do what he wants. He seeks warmth and I can only give him that for now. I glance at the wedding dress still lying on the couch and I think how silly yet sweet he was for getting this. “Thank you,” I tell him quietly.

“As long as you like it, I’m happy.”

Hoseok releases me from his hug and makes his way to the kitchen. “You want some pasta for dinner?” he suggests, acting as if nothing has happened.

“Sure,” I say.

“You can go take a shower first,” he tells me, “and dinner will be ready when you’re done.”

“That’s kind of unfair. I can help!”

“No, it’s fine. It’ll be faster if I cook by myself.”

“Then . . . I’ll sit here and wait for you.”

“That’ll just—“

“I don’t mind watching you cook,” I interrupt. “I quite like it actually.”

“All right then.”

I wonder how long I’ve been watching him cook. Hoseok first cooked for me in university. The two of us had to finish a project together and instead of takeout, he suggested that he would cook. He made something as simple as scrambled eggs, French toast, and sausages. I laughed at him for making those when it was around dinner time. He told me that breakfast could be eaten at any time. Truth be told, he wasn’t that good at cooking then. A few egg shells fell into the mixture and I remember crunching on some of them. Now, I look at him and see how fast and how evenly he can chop the vegetables. Everything comes out so perfectly. I wonder why I never noticed how he has changed over the years. These little things . . . sort of escape my mind while Hoseok can remember nearly everything about me.

I feel guilty. I don’t think I can match to his level. I’m afraid that . . . I won’t be able to feel so deeply for him. That’s unfair to him, I think. I’m thinking that I should try harder, but it appears as if Hoseok doesn’t want me to have to try.

_Even if you don’t marry me in the end, I’d still want you to look your best on your wedding day._

If I didn’t marry him and wore the dress he bought for me on my wedding day, wouldn’t that be too cruel to Hoseok? That’d make me a horrible bitch right?

“Don’t think so much, Gem,” Hoseok states. “Like I said before, if you ever find me overbearing, just tell me and I’ll give you some space.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I croak. I can’t believe I feel like crying at this point. Hold back those tears, Gemma. You’re not supposed to be sobbing now. There’s nothing sad about this.

“Because that’s love,” he tells me while placing the spaghetti into the pot. “You don’t have to feel pressured to accept it, but just don’t tell me that I’m not allowed to . . . love.”

“I-I-I’m just . . . afraid that . . . I can’t love you like the way you do to me,” I admit.

“You can love me the way you want. You don’t have to imitate me or anything,” he informs me. “Just let it come naturally or maybe . . . it’ll never come and that’s okay. Just tell me if you ever want to leave and I’ll let you go.”

I mumble, “Why do I feel like you’re ready to break up with me at any time?”

“I’m not ready, but . . . in case you ever do that—“

“Let’s . . . not think about breakups when we’ve just started to date,” I cut him off. “I . . . might not feel so strongly about you now, but the idea of breaking up has never crossed my mind.”

As Hoseok stirs some vegetables in a frying pan, he says, “I’m glad.”

“I’m . . . glad too that I gave us a try,” I confess.

Hoseok smiles in a way that reminds me of that time when I told him I got a wonderful job offer. He was genuinely happy for me and even lifted me up for a hug. I was graced with his sweet dimples. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile in this way for a while now. It’s rather refreshing. I hope he can keep smiling like that. Maybe . . . that’s what I can do?


	14. In His Eyes 02

Namjoon almost throws a beer can at me because apparently I’ve been smiling creepily in front of me. It’s been a while since I last hung out with Namjoon; usually we only drink together if he is suffering from some heart break. This time we’re drinking at this bar because he got dumped by this super model. I’m not surprised. Namjoon is one of those nice guys that people trample over. I’m expecting to hear him complain about how horrible his luck is, yet he starts bitching about my “over eager face”.

“Why the fuck are you smiling so creepily?” Namjoon clings onto his beer can and almost tips the whole thing over onto his hand. “Fucking asshole. What good thing happened in your life?”

Smiling creepily? I don’t remember smiling . . .

“Didn’t you fucking break your arm?” Namjoon slurs in between another gulp of his drink. “I’d be so pissed if that happened.”

The most thankful thing for the year for me would be my broken arm. Thanks to a broken arm, Gemma decided to give me a chance. I actually thought Gemma would be mad at me after my car accident. I thought she would leave me, but she only chided me a few times before telling me the words that I’ve wanted to hear for a while.

_I'm not letting you go. Even if you push me away, I . . . am not . . . l-l-letting you go._

I noticed how frail she was at that time. She was almost about to cry and that was because of me. I can never stand seeing her cry. It always breaks my heart to see her upset, so I gave in and embraced her. I let her take me home even though I knew it’d be a bad idea. After hearing how she would kiss Bogum, I thought that I should really consider letting her go. Hadn’t all those romantic movies taught us to let go of the people we love if they don’t love us back?

But then . . . Gemma offered me to stay at her place. She kept telling me that she cared about me and that she wasn’t treating me like a child. Does that mean that I have a chance? I kept pressing on, pretending to be stubborn to see how she would react. I purposely laughed whenever I didn’t feel like giving her an answer. I knew that would irritate her and I wanted to see how much I could bother her until she would give up on me. I wanted to see the limit to our relationship; I know I’m selfish, but I like testing the waters.

That’s why I purposely do things that would bug her. I opened the fridge in her kitchen and acted like I owned this apartment. I took an apple and aimed to bite on it without even washing or cutting it. I knew that Gemma would come rushing to my aid when she saw me struggling to cut an apple. I acted clumsy, knowing that I would probably get a cut and make her more worried. Luckily my plan went accordingly and she tended to my wound. She even offered to cook me a meal.

Even though she’s not the best cook, I still appreciated her efforts. I bugged her again by reminding her to chop the vegetables evenly. That would likely trigger her to say that I was too picky and it did. The conversation was flowing in the way that I want it to, so I led the topic into a confession. I told her that the issue wasn’t about finding the right girl; the issue was getting her to know that I’m the one for her. I even added that since she was cooking, it was like a married couple. My observation made her blush, so I secretly cheered for myself in my head.

I decided to go further. I told her that if married life was like this then I wouldn’t mind getting married. She eventually asked if I had told the girl about my feelings yet. I complained that I had dropped many hints, but she never got them. Checkmate. She suggested that I confessed.

Then I just laughed, recognizing that she would be annoyed. Whenever I laugh, Gemma likes to push me to move forward or press on. Luckily, this time she gave me the green light, so I told her, “Gemma Fan, it’s you.”

After all these years, I finally told her that I loved her. The clumsy girl dropped a glass of water onto the ground and she even started to pick up the remaining pieces. Of course she would cut herself! I couldn’t do much with a broken arm besides handing her a broom and a pan. Then, I saw the cut on her finger and immediately sucked on it. I could see her hesitating and blushing, acting all shy. She was still unsure and in shock. I could sense the impending rejection, so I switched to plan B after she apologized.

Plan B would be to make her feel a bit guilty. I admitted that it was a rejection, but that I would get over it. That led Gemma to admit that she was confused about her feelings for me. I sometimes want to shout at her for being so dense! How can someone be so thick skulled? How can she not get the message? Why is she so stupid when it comes to love? Why can’t she even understand her own feelings? Of course she likes me as more than a friend! My irritation prompted me to begin a series of interrogative questions. I even had to use the last question to trigger her to realize the right answer. I had to ask her who she would save if Bogum and I were both drowning.

As soon as Gemma paused, I knew the answer. She would pick me. I didn’t care if she was looking down and refusing to make eye contact with me. I was going to kiss her and I did for quite a while. I told her that I had been waiting for years for this. Of course I needed a second kiss, but this time I asked her for her permission. I knew she wouldn’t budge unless I told her the truth, how I wasn’t going to marry if it weren’t for her.

Gemma looked so stunned when she heard this news. I supposed that I threw too much at her at once for her little loveless brain to process. Therefore, I cushioned the impact of the news by acknowledging that I knew she didn’t love me yet but that I was confident that I could make her fall for me. I also added that I was certain that no one could ever love her more than me and that I’d do everything to make her happy.

Yes, this was a proposal. I was giving my all, offering my heart to her on a white, porcelain plate. All she needed was to gobble it, but she nearly pushed the plate away. She said that everything was happening too quickly. Hasn’t she realized that we were sloths?

I knew I couldn’t let her think for too long or else Gemma would regret saying yes to me. Thus, I concluded that we were together and went to bed. I didn’t let her have the chance to think of some rebuttal.

Moreover, I had to solidify my position in her life as her boyfriend, so I made my presence known to Wheein. Wheein has always had a keen eye and could see through my intentions. Although she doesn’t hate me, I know she doesn’t like me very much too. It’s probably because we’re both the same type and that’s also why Wheein clings to Gemma so much. I’m just fortunate that she doesn’t disapprove of me because Wheein also can tell that Gemma has feelings for me. Whatever Gemma wants, Wheein will try to give. Whoever Gemma likes, Wheein will try to like as well, except for Bogum. That’s probably why Wheein and I can somewhat get along. We both can’t stand Bogum. We hate his guts.

I intentionally brought croissants over when Wheein and Gemma were eating lunch. When Wheein saw me, she was about to spill all of my plan. I cut her off before she could destroy my image in front of Gemma who genuinely thought that I just wanted to give her croissants. Nope. I wanted people at her office to know that I was her boyfriend, so I planted a kiss on her and called her ma crevette. Calling her a French name will make her wonder what I meant for days.

Indeed Gemma wondered about this name. I thought she would ask me eventually, but who knew this silly girl would go ask some French co-worker of hers? She even got him to message me over the phone and he wasn’t even acting like her. That pissed me off. Why would she give something so private as her phone to some random guy? Even worse that bastard gave her tickets to the Museum of War for our first date. I already planned the first date, and it was not going to be at a museum featuring death. I really wanted to crash my head into a wall. Instead, I chose to flick her forehead and reminded her never to listen to that Jean-Paul.

I wanted her to see me in a different light, so I proposed thirty six questions. I thought I could try being more honest with her, yet somehow when the question was related to my childhood, I couldn’t get myself to say anything. The most I could say was that I had a typical rich kid’s childhood where my parents were too busy to care. I also asked Gemma if she hated her sister. As I expected, Gemma said no. At the end of her day, Irene was still her sister.

I wished that I could have had a bigger heart. I wished that I could have said that I never wished that Jihan had died. I certainly hoped that he would disappear in my life several times. If he weren’t there, I’d be able to relax. I wouldn’t have to feel so anxious or have to live in fear. More than that, I often wondered if life would be easier if I were the one that vanished. If I hadn’t even been born . . .

But then I wouldn’t have met Gemma. That thought brightens my life a bit. I wouldn’t let Gemma endure what I went through, so I told her I would protect her. If Irene hurt her, let me be the bad person. Let me bear all the guilt so Gemma can have a better life. I don’t mind if my hands are tainted where the blood can’t be washed off. My hands are already dirty anyway.

That was also why I didn’t let Gemma go try on a dress by herself. I got the feeling that Irene would be up to no good. Maybe I was worrying too much. I was also interested in finding out what Gemma’s reaction would be if Bogum were there. I would invite him along. I got his number from Irene since I said I’d help with the wedding planning. If Bogum saw Gemma in a wedding gown, how would he react? I needed to see how he actually felt about Gemma. I didn’t believe that he hadn’t felt anything for her over these years, and I wanted to see how much Gemma still felt for him.

Silly Gemma only thinks about those pathetic curses. She thinks if I see her in a wedding gown, that’d be bad luck. She even believed that I wasn’t serious when I said I wanted to marry her. How slow could she be? I thought I’ve been clear, but I guess I really needed to spell it out for her. As a result, I listed all the traits that I like about her. Then, she told me that she felt bad because she was nervous that she couldn’t love me so deeply. Sometimes I wish she wouldn’t be so straightforward, but I do respect her honesty. I was not, however, going to let this go so easily, so I warned her that if she found me overbearing, I’d let her go. Though I say that I’d do that, I was not really sure if I could . . . actually let her go. I knew this sentence would make her heart soften, so I stuck with it. What’s really true is that I’m possessive. I know I get jealous easily; it’s stupid, I know. However, I still wanted to make sure that everyone knew that she was taken by planting a hickey on her neck. Obviously before she could reject me, I left her alone. Better to let this Gemma be puzzled. That’d make her think about me more.

Even on the day where Gemma was trying on wedding dresses, Gemma was confused and shy. She didn’t feel comfortable picking unique dresses. She wanted to be plain and to be a wallflower. I wasn’t going to let her succumb to her insecurities. I wanted her to know that she was beautiful, more so than Irene. Sometimes I think Gemma suffers from an inferiority complex, probably due to how her mother favours Irene more. I understand that feeling because I could see it in Jihan as well, but he dealt with his complex in a very dark, malicious manner. Meanwhile, Gemma brainwashed herself to accept that she was not as worthy as Irene.

I needed to change Gemma’s opinion of herself during this process, so I picked a fancy one with a large bow at the back. At first, she was hesitant to try it on, yet after some persuading, she gave in. Though I did want to see Bogum’s reaction, I kind of wanted to let Gemma know that Bogum could see her beauty too. That would give her more confidence. I didn’t give Bogum the full picture; only said that Gemma and Irene were trying on dresses and Gemma needed another opinion since we weren’t sure which dress to pick. Bogum did come and offered his help. I pretended that I needed to make another call, but I actually just slipped out of the dressing room and went to the one beside it to eavesdrop.

The saleslady almost became annoyed at my behaviour, but when I said I was looking for a tuxedo, she was more than eager to help. As she went off to find me some formal clothing, I listened to what the two said. Bogum picked that fucking ugly mundane dress for Gemma. He had bad taste; no wonder I didn’t like him from the start. What surprised me was that he noticed the hickey on Gemma’s neck. The saleslady gave me some suits, and I quickly slipped into them as Gemma struggled to answer Bogum’s question. I was afraid she would just confess everything to him, so I barged in clad in a formal suit. I even made Bogum take photos of Gemma and me. I enjoyed seeing Bogum’s disgruntled face as I kept forcing him to take more. I even made Gemma do a shot where we kissed in front of Bogum. I could feel his evil glare. So Bogum did feel something for Gemma. I thought I’d take it a step further and suggested that the four of us could hang out.

Because I felt bad for making Gemma endure that ordeal in front of Bogum, I decided that I would buy that wedding dress for her. I also think it suited her very well. The card I left with her had words written from my heart. If I took action as well, she would understand that I was being serious about marrying her. It seemed like she finally understood when she initiated a hug, yet she added that I was too good her. No, Gemma, I’m not as good as you think I am. I’m not that pure-hearted gentleman. I’m too far from that image, and I did let her know what I thought. Now the question was whether she’d accept the truth.

At least . . . Gemma seemed open to accepting my flaws. She told me that if I was good to her, then that would be enough. I wasn’t sure so I asked her again. Luckily, she believed in me. I felt so happy that I accidentally hugged her too tightly, probably to the point where she couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t let myself become so overjoyed, so I let her go. I offered to cook for her and she settled on watching me. I felt antsy, knowing that she was observing my every move. Even though it was pasta and I wasn’t doing much since my arm was still healing, I could feel my stomach churning. From time to time, I’d take a few glimpses at her. It was clear that she was lost in thought, gazing straight ahead. I had a feeling she was feeling pressured from all of my actions.

Maybe the dress was too much, so I reminded her again that if she ever felt overburdened, I’d keep my distance. She could love me any way she wanted and if she wanted to leave me, I’d let her go. I might have been too prepared to accept rejection if Gemma wanted out of this relationship because to her, it appeared as if I was ready to leave any time. To make sure that she didn’t have the wrong idea, I emphasized that that wasn't the case. She also said that the idea of breaking up hadn’t surfaced in her head, making me breathe a sigh of relief.

I felt so happy that I lifted her up with my one arm. I think I did smile? I probably did.

“Seriously knock it off,” Namjoon nudges me hard with his elbow and howls. As I rub my ribs, Namjoon shakes his head several times and groans, “You and your creepy smile again. What the fuck are you even thinking?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet right?” I utter.

“Tell me what?”

“Gemma and I are together now,” I announce.

“Can I break your other arm?” Namjoon suggests and pretends to grab my healthy arm.

“No,” I declare and kick his stool, nearly causing him to collapse to the ground. Luckily, he grabbed a hold of the edge of the bar counter to stabilize himself.

I expected Namjoon to throw a punch at me, but instead he slaps my back. “Congrats man. It was about time though,” Namjoon chimes.

“Why’d you say that?” I wonder.

“Because you two were already like a couple,” he murmurs. “I always felt like I was third wheeling you guys . . . and didn’t you like her for a long time anyway?”

I hope Namjoon doesn’t remember this drunk conversation. “Was I that obvious?” I ponder.

Namjoon slams his can of beer onto the table. “Yeah,” he remarks. “Too obvious. You never cared about the other girls you dated, but whenever it came to Gemma, you’d like fucking freak out. Oh and you’re way too possessive. Like fuck, you killed her love life and knowing you, you probably did that on purpose ‘cause you’re kind of messed up.”

Namjoon is the only one that knows about what happened between Jihan and me. You can say that Namjoon is probably my only best friend. We hung out together because our parents were both busy and we had those family gatherings. We happened to be the same age and went to school together. He says that I like to follow him around, but I think he likes to tag along where I go. That’s fine . . . besides how often he likes to complain about his love life. Other than that, he still gives good advice.

“Huh,” I reply.

“Most people probably can’t tell, but I’ve known you for too fucking long,” Namjoon adds and then gives me another slap on the back. “I’m happy for you bro. You two suit each other.”

“You think so?”

“Can you stop being a lil pussy? Yes, and she’s already dating you. What else do you want?” Namjoon barks.

What else do I want from her? She did choose me, yet why do I feel . . . empty at times? An image of Bogum flashes in my head. I guess I’m not satisfied yet because I know Gemma still has lingering feelings for Bogum. I want him out of her life, mind, and heart. If he could disappear . . .

Crap. What am I even thinking? No.

_Now look who’s ruined?_

_Murderer._

_No one is ever gonna love you after all._

I finish my bottle of beer in one go and tell Namjoon, “I’ll see you later. You’ll find a better girl next time.”

“Hey! Hoseok! What the hell man? You still need to pay for your bill! Why are you—“

I ignore Namjoon and head out of the bar. I need to clear my mind. If I drive my car now, I’ll probably get into an accident again. I’ll just run for a bit, but when I head to a residential area, the streets are pitch black. I’ve never liked the dark. I’ve never liked being alone by myself because I know those murky thoughts will linger. I feel like I can hear Jihan whispering.

_You’re a manipulative, cunning asshole._

_You act all high and mighty, but you know what you are. You’re like the devil._

I run aimlessly in the dark before I have to catch my breath. I find my phone vibrating in my pocket and answer it without thinking much, “Hello?”

“It’s almost two. Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Gemma asks.

“Haha.”

“Don’t haha me!” she reprimands. “Where the heck are you?”

“Haha. I don’t know.”

“Are you drunk? Don’t tell me that you’re—“

“I’m not driving,” I butt in. “I just ran.”

“Ran? I thought you were out with Namjoon?”

“I was, but I just . . .” I sit at a bench in front of this apartment. “Just needed to . . . clear my mind.”

“Where . . . do you think you are? I’ll come and get you.”

“It’s really late, Gem. It’s too dangerous for you to be out by yourself. I’ll be fine.”

“Did something happen between you and Namjoon?”

I reply, “No. Nothing.”

“Then why are you acting so weirdly? Something is wrong . . .”

“I just needed to clear my head.”

“I . . . know you don’t like me saying this, but you can tell me what’s bothering you,” she states.

Can I tell her? Will she accept me? Is this suitable over the phone? I don’t think I’m ready yet. She’s not in love with me yet, so she probably can’t stand what happened. I probably took too long to respond because Gemma continues to utter, “Even if it’s something really small, that’s okay. I complain a lot too right? It’s only fair that you get to vent.”

But it’s not something small. That’s why it’s hard to even start a conversation related to that topic. It’s too early, I guess. Maybe one day I’ll find the right time to tell her.

“Thanks,” I respond.

“No problem. I just don’t think it’s healthy for you to bottle everything up,” she adds. “One day you might not be able to take it and aren’t couples supposed to share their problems?”

“Haha. You’re right.”

“So . . . what’s bothering you?”

“Hey, Gemma . . .”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t like the dark. Can you come and get me?”

“Huh?” Gemma questions out of shock. I guess she expected me to start bitching about work or something. I kind of thought she would laugh, but she instead asks, “Where . . . are you though? What about your car?”

“I’m still kind of drunk, so I was hoping you’d come and then drive me back,” I explain.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “I’ll be there after you message me where you are.”

“Yeah. I’ll just check where I am on Google maps.”

It’s true. I don’t like the darkness. I don’t like being by myself. I don’t mind sleeping in the dark if there is someone else in the house with me. I just really dislike the two of them together.

_Let’s play a game, Hoseok. It’s called Hide and Seek. If you get caught, you’ll get punished. If you can hide for the whole game, I’ll give you a reward._

_Really?_

_Really._

I was six years old when I hid in this large wooden trunk that reminded me of a treasure box in a guest room. I was still naïve enough to believe that Jihan would eventually like me if I behaved well. Instead, when he found me, he grabbed a lock and locked the box. I kept screaming and shouting but no one could hear me. When my throat was too sore and dry to make a whimper while my whole body was too rigid to move, I gave up and closed my eyes. I thought this was it . . . until I heard the lock click. I was rushed to the hospital for dehydration. When I woke up, I realized that I had been in the box for two days. It was only thanks to my grandfather who came to visit the mansion did the servants start looking for me.

My grandfather beat Jihan with a belt but before any actual bruising occurred, my parents stepped in and begged for his forgiveness. They claimed that he was still young and hadn’t realized the significance of his outcome. This was all a game between boys. Then, my parents looked at me to force me to defend Jihan. My grandfather questioned me if this was all a game. When I saw my parents gazing at me anxiously, I answered a quiet yes with my head hung low. After this fiasco, my parents bought me the latest game console and let me go on a vacation to the Alps. Jihan was only grounded for a week.

From then on, I didn’t like sleeping in the dark. I hadn’t become a claustrophobic where I couldn’t take cramped spaces. I was fine with busy subways or elevators. I just felt nervous if I were in the dark by myself, especially if the area were enclosed. I sought for company to be safe against Jihan. I became more outgoing and sociable as a method of self-protection. I needed friends and eventually girlfriends to fill the void and to mask the fear.

On the other hand, I felt like I thrived in the darkness. Whenever Jihan was lectured by my grandfather, I had a sense of satisfaction. I was happy to see him in pain. I liked that he was jealous of me because that meant I was better than him. Jihan would never be happy and I was more than willing to accept that. When there was someone that was genuinely happy, I would question why he or she could act that way. Sometimes I would want to ruin that joy. That person hasn’t been through what I endured so how can he or she deserve to be content?

Those thoughts would run through my mind even though I knew they were wrong. I’d tell myself not to think so evilly. Everyone has his or her own path to follow. Just because I’m not cheerful doesn’t mean that someone else can’t be happy. Yet . . . sometimes the dark part of myself reigns supreme.

I’m scared . . . Gemma. I’m scared I’ll sink to the depths of a black hole because right now . . . my life seems a bit too perfect and it has never been that way before. So please . . . come here, hold my hand, and lead me away. Let me know that it’ll be okay and I’ll try . . . I’ll try to have a better heart.   


	15. Mystery

I use my lunch break to talk to Namjoon even though it has been half a year since I last hung out with him. Namjoon, Hoseok, and I used to get together pretty often during college. We’d go out for meals, movies, and drinks. After we graduated, I didn’t keep constant contact with Namjoon and Hoseok rarely invited me to tag along with the two. At first I would protest and ask why I couldn’t join them, but Hoseok would argue that they were having a guy’s night out. After a few failed attempts to hang out with them, I gave up. You’d wonder why I’m meeting with Namjoon then?

Well it’s because of what happened several days ago with Hoseok. He said he was going out to drink with Namjoon and would be back before 1 am. After all, it’d be a Monday the next day. However, Hoseok was out till 2 am and I grew worried. Hoseok was the type that’d message me first if he was going to stay out later. He also wasn’t the sort to break his promise. This time, Hoseok didn’t bother contacting me, so I called him. From his voice and tone, I could tell that something was wrong. He was laughing too often one more. In the end, Hoseok only asked me to take him home because he was scared of the dark.

I thought he was joking, yet his voice seemed too serious. He didn’t want to be alone in the dark. When I drove him home, Hoseok didn’t make any sarcastic comments. He didn’t even laugh. He just sat quietly in the passenger seat with his mind elsewhere. I kept wondering what had happened between him and Namjoon. Did Namjoon anger him? Had something else been bugging Hoseok? I knew I couldn’t ask Hoseok directly since he, on multiple occasions, just brushed me away. My gut told me that Namjoon would likely have an answer. As a result, I organized a lunch meeting with Namjoon.

“Long time no see,” Namjoon greets me while taking the seat across from me at this Thai restaurant. “I heard the good news from Hoseok. I’m happy that you two are finally together.”

“Finally?” I sputter. Why do I feel like this is déjà vu? Maybe because Wheein made a similar comment? Why is it that so many people seem to have been waiting for us just to be together?

“Yeah. You two had something going on for the longest time,” he rolls his eyes before taking a glance at the menu. “What would you suggest here by the way?”

“The pad Thai is good. I also like the coconut curry and mango sticky rice.”

“All right. I’ll take the pad Thai then,” Namjoon signals the waiter to come over.

“About what you said . . . Hoseok and I were just friends a while ago,” I mumble quietly.

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow and then he heaves a heavy sigh. “Guys and girls can’t be close friends,” he lectures.

“Why not?”

“Unless you were fucking ugly, then sure, but you’re not so he had the hots for you. Period,” Namjoon rambles, reminding me of Wheein and her spew of fury. Then, he adds, “You also friendzoned him for the longest time.”

“But I never felt butterflies in my stomach around him or obsessed over him,” I argue.

“But you’re always there whenever he needs help. I don’t know a girl who would consistently let herself be slapped by another woman for the sake of another man.”

“I guess.”

Namjoon swirls his glass of water a few times, acting like a snobbish aristocratic. “You always defend Hoseok whenever someone talks shit about him. You always think about him first when you want to share something with someone. Hell, you’re even letting him stay at your place when he only broke his arm. You like spending time with him. You trust him and now . . . you’re here to see me because you’re really worried about him.”

“How’d you—“

“You never come hang out with me individually unless it’s something about Hoseok.”

I think back to those moments when Namjoon and I were out by ourselves. He was right. I always consulted him whenever I had problems with Hoseok or vice versa. When Hoseok was mad at me and refused to speak to me for a few days, I asked Namjoon for advice. When Hoseok seemed upset yet I didn’t know what was wrong, I consulted Namjoon. When Namjoon wanted to know where Hoseok was, he’d ask me.

“So what’s the issue today?”

“Um . . . after that night when Hoseok drank with you, he was acting kind of weird. Did you guys . . . fight about anything?”

“Don’t think so? Though . . . after I asked him why he was dissatisfied when he was with you . . . he sort of just snapped?”

“So . . . I suppose it’s something I did.”

“I don’t think it’s you actually. It’s probably just something he’s dealing with internally.”

“What could it be?”

Namjoon thanks the waiter for bringing his plate of food before uttering to me, “Hoseok . . . hasn’t told you yet, I’m guessing?”

“About?”

“Then he hasn’t,” he concludes and proceeds to gobble on some noodles.

I know I need to stall Namjoon from finishing his food so quickly. Namjoon is a fast eater and doesn’t like to waste his time so as soon as his food is done, he will excuse himself. As a result, my plan is to keep asking questions.

“But . . . I’ve noticed that he . . . always tries to avoid the topic of family,” I declare. “You’re his cousin, so you should know something about it?”

“It’s not my place to say anything about his family,” Namjoon retorts in between a bite. “You should ask him yourself.”

“I tried, but he just won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Wiping the corner of his lips with a napkin, he instructs me, “Just be patient. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he feels like it. It’s just hard for him to talk about it.”

“I guess,” I mumble and start to eat my curry.

There is a moment of silence between us as the two of us just sit at the table like an old couple who only care about eating. All of a sudden, Namjoon breaks the quietness and remarks, “But whatever happens . . . please just believe in him. I can’t say much about other things because it’s not my place to say them, but I can say this.” Namjoon looks at me with an oddly serious look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so stern before. Namjoon usually has the most unusual facial expressions that remind me of different creatures from octopuses to rabbits. This time, he means business as he explains, “I think . . . part of the reason that he doesn’t want to tell you is that he’s afraid that you’ll be disappointed in him or wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him after you know the story.”

“Is it . . . that bad?” I wonder.

Namjoon shrugs his shoulders. “Could be worse,” he replies, “but could be better too. It does take a lot of courage to talk about your secrets? There are some things that you wouldn’t let Hoseok know right?”

I stay quiet because I know that that’s true. I haven’t told Hoseok much about Bogum. I certainly haven’t told Hoseok about my father who always had affairs throughout his marriage with my mother. My childhood was filled with images of bickering and shouting parents. There was always something breaking in the household like plates or wine glasses. My mother would use me as a messenger to my father whenever she didn’t want to talk to him. Tell your father that he should pay for these fees. Tell your father this or that.

Whenever I didn’t want to face my parents’ turmoil, I would go to Bogum’s house next door to play. Irene would be with me too or she would go off to a friend’s house for a sleepover. Bogum was the only other person other than family that knew about my parents’ situation. He lied to his parents that he was tutoring me or babysitting me. He would play house or doctor with me even though he was several years older. He listened to my frustrations and never told anyone of my family’s situation. He was patient, gentle, and honest unlike my father. My father was lazy and hated children. He never remembered what I liked, how old I was, or what happened to me at school. He didn’t care about us; he felt like a distant relative at most. He travelled back and forth to the States because he was doing business in Asia. At first, my father cared about work, but later he grew tired of us and of his job. He wanted his own life which didn’t include us, yet my mother wanted to keep him in the marriage. She wanted to picture perfect family to brag to her friends. These illusions dragged for several years until everything exploded and she was the one wanting a divorce.

Since I looked more like my father, my mom never really liked me much. Anything I did wrong was associated with my father. My sister, on the other hand, was praised because she was “better”. She was more beautiful and more sociable. She was also more manipulative. Although I try to bear her, I sometimes still feel like I would have been better off born in a different family. Maybe it’d be better if she wasn’t my sister.

All these things I haven’t told anyone except for Bogum. I’m not sure why I can’t be honest towards Hoseok. Is it like Namjoon said? I want to keep an image in front of Hoseok? Or is it that I just can’t fully trust Hoseok yet? I honestly don’t know, but I do know that Namjoon is right. If I want Hoseok to talk, then I need to share my side of the story as well. How can he trust me if I don’t share my vulnerability?

Because I didn’t talk, Namjoon finishes his meal very swiftly. He is prepared to ask a waitress for the bill when he directs his attention towards me and voices, “Don’t worry so much and don’t think so much, Gemma. Just let things flow naturally. I have faith in you two.”

“Faith?”

“Yeah. You two will work it out somehow as long as you have an open mind,” he tells me.

An open mind . . .

His suggestion leaves me thinking even after lunch break. I wonder how open my mind can be and this question remained unresolved until after work. On my commute home, I start to search online for anything about Hoseok and his family. His family even has a Wikipedia page. There isn’t much besides information about how his family came to prominence and wealth. His parents are interviewed for their input about the industry and the economy. Hoseok has some interviews here and there. I click on a few articles and videos to see what he has said. One question asked him to describe how he overcame a setback or failure.

_There was a time when I wanted to avoid the problem so for a long time I just pretended that I could leave it be. It wasn’t anything urgent, but I let it sit. Then, the issue came to haunt me, so I had a huge setback. After that, I’ve learned that sometimes prioritizing by urgency doesn’t work. Some of those hidden problems will hit you hard if you choose to put them off._

Problem . . . Is this work related, I wonder. For some reason my gut says no. Then another interview asks him about his greatest fear.

_My greatest fear . . . I think it would have to be myself. Even though I am generally an optimistic person, sometimes I can have some negative thoughts._

_Everyone gets negative thoughts from time to time._

_Haha. I suppose so._

That laugh. I’m sure what Hoseok thought was negative was different from the interviewer’s idea of pessimism. Negative thoughts in Hoseok’s eyes would probably have been darker, but the question is how dark. And why?

None of the other articles or videos about Hoseok say anything important, so I move on to looking at his other family members when I get home. Hoseok is working later than me tonight; he messaged me about this so I can have all the time to myself to research. His sister, Tiffany, has a long list of scandals. There is an alleged sex tape and many photos of her with other celebrities, entrepreneurs, artists, and politicians. Some singers even composed songs for her or dedicated some art piece to her. She even had her own reality TV show that reminded me of the Hills. She is well-known within the modelling industry and has a cult following on Instagram.

As for his older brother, Jihan, there is nothing about him. Perhaps he chose to live a quiet life, but it’s too quiet for this family. Something is off though. I scratch my chin a few times and then curl my legs closer to my body. I’ve been stretched out across my couch on my side like a beached mermaid while holding onto my Ipad to do some casual stalking. I’m about to roll my shoulders back and forth when Hoseok hovers behind me and asks, “What are you looking at?”

I nearly jump up and bump my head against the armrest. My Ipad almost drops onto the ground but I catch it just in time. “Jesus!” I yelp. “You freaked me out.”

“You must be doing something fishy,” Hoseok sticks his head closer to me and leans forward to try to catch what’s on my screen.

I quickly press the home button and mutter, “It’s nothing!”

“Must have been porn,” he jokes while hanging his trench coat on my coat rack.

“No!” I hold the Ipad to my chest, sit up, and refute.

“I was just joking. Chill,” he assures and starts to loosen his tie. “Though I think your expression really reminds me of someone that got caught watching porn. You’re definitely hiding something from me.”

Knowing Hoseok, he will keep bugging me until I tell him the truth. Last time I kept a secret was when I was trying to plan a surprise party for him. Hoseok caught me calling a few people and scouting different venues. In the end, there was no surprise. Hoseok found out that I had booked a restaurant at the aquarium for him and had gotten lots of our friends together to celebrate. He sure was good acting as if he had experienced the best news of his life. Sure the party was fun, but the whole part of him probing into my affairs to figure out what I was planning was definitely bothersome. To prevent a deja-vu, I give in and spill everything.

“After that night when you asked me to pick you up, I just thought things weren’t as simple as they seemed,” I explain. “I know you don’t like talking about your family, but . . . I’ve started to think that I . . . should get to know you more or well, I want to know you on a deeper level.”

Hoseok plays dumb and gasps like a teenage girl. “Wow! Could this be a prelude to . . .” He points in the direction of my bedroom.

“I’m being serious here,” I remind him. “I realized that we’re both hiding things. I mean, I don’t talk about my family either and I probably should.”

“Let’s not do stuff we don’t want to do,” he states and makes his way down the hall to the guest bedroom where he is staying in.

As I chase after him, I argue, “I’m not doing something I don’t want to.”

Hoseok walks to the closet and unbuttons his dress shirt. “Are we playing a game where we’re trading secrets now?” he scornfully questions.

“No,” I reply.

“It sure seems like it.”

I know he is trying to make me uncomfortable by undressing in front me. Normally, I’d be shy and dodge this scene. However, tonight I’m holding on. I’m going to put up a fight to get some answers, so I announce, “Maybe it does, but . . . if you’re afraid that I’ll be disappointed in you, then don’t be because I’m not as ‘good’ as you think I am. I have my hidden demons too.” Hoseok still ignores me and proceeds to take off his trousers, leaving me no choice but to confess, “You think I’m too kind to my sister, but there are times when I wished that she’d be gone. There are so many times when I just wanted to yell at her or even push her.”

“That’s fine,” he mumbles quietly.

“If something bad happens to her, I often find myself thinking that it’s karma or I’m even happy about it,” I admit. “It’s not right.”

“I understand.” He opens the closet to grab a change of clothes which includes a pair of grey sweat pants and a cotton navy t-shirt.

I thought he would have said more or at least lectured me. This response is so unusual that I want to divulge more to get a bigger reaction from him. “One of my greatest fears is my father coming to see me,” I blab, “and asking me for money. I don’t want to see him anymore. I’m scared to see him. I don’t know what to do or say to him. I mean he wasn’t a great dad. He left us for another woman and never supported us. He didn’t like children too and . . . umm . . .”

After Hoseok slips on his t-shirt, he rubs my head a few times as if he were petting his favourite dog. “It’s okay, Gem,” he notes. “You don’t have to share more. I get it.”

“Th-That’s all you’re going to say?” I howl.

“What else am I supposed to say?” he ponders.

“Lecture me? Get mad at me? Be disappointed? I don’t know. Something more than this!” I bellow. “You just seem to accept anything bad that I do.”

Hoseok gawks at me so seriously that I feel some goosebumps down my spine. “I like your good and bad parts,” he tells me in a confident tone.

As soon as he turns his back to me, I wrap my arms around him and press my cheek against his back. “I . . . I want to do that too,” I murmur.

“Thank you for sharing your secrets with me.” His hand rests on top of mine. “Some things . . . are better left unsaid.”

I can feel his hesitation, so I hold on with more strength. “I’ll wait,” I voice, “until you’re ready. I’m sorry for pressuring you. I just . . . don’t want you to feel troubled.”

“Thank you . . . for understanding,” he answers quietly.

Once I release my hug, I leave his room feeling rather dejected. I don’t even know what I was hoping for. I should have known that it wouldn’t be so easy to get Hoseok to talk, yet I wanted to try. Somehow I was the one that blurted my darkest secrets and unlike Bogum who would remind me how I should behave, Hoseok thought what I was feeling was acceptable. He was indifferent to societal expectations; as long as I was happy, he was fine. I don’t know why I expected more from him. I thought, perhaps, we could have a heart-to-heart conversation and then I’d understand him more. However, he didn’t want to share anything deep at all. He thought it was better for me to be ignorant, but . . . I still want to know. I guess I will have to wait for now. I promised.

I hope he knows that whatever he says, I’ll still be there.


	16. Infection

I am starting to think that some sort of God up there doesn’t like to see people have perfect lives. Since my work and relationship seem to be fine, something has to give. I really thought the happy days would come. I thought I’d get a second date soon but work kept rolling in. I also thought there would be no drama, but . . . damn it I was wrong! Now I’m at the doctor’s office for the third time just to have a female doctor stick this swab into my vagina and there I am shrieking in pain: “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

Let’s backtrack a bit to a week ago. Hoseok noticed that I was going to the washroom far too often. I thought I had a weak bladder, but who knew that I’d want to go every ten minutes or so? I mean, I didn’t even drink that much water. Plus, my pee smelled like rotten fish. I thought it was due to the vitamins I ate. I really wasn’t thinking so much until Hoseok told me that I should see a doctor. Something was wrong with me.

After making the Nth bathroom trip, I finally agreed with him and he drove me to my family doctor. He insisted on accompanying me into the room with the doctor who told me to pee in two cups. After I started to describe my symptoms, my doctor, Dr. Nolan, asked, “Are you sexually active?”

“No,” I answered.

Then, she looked at me in disbelief and glanced at Hoseok who just shrugged his shoulders. I had to clear my throat and emphasize again, “We haven’t done it. I mean, he probably has but I sure haven’t.”

“It’s just a standard question. We probably don’t need to test you for STIs,” she replied.

“I’m scared though. Just test me for STIs!” I demanded and clenched my fists.

“So you are sexually active?” Dr. Nolan questioned once more.

“No,” I answered firmly, “but you don’t necessarily need to have the S in the STI to get the STI.”

“Fine,” she nearly rolled her eyes and muttered. “Anyway you probably have a urinary tract infection given your symptoms. I’ll give you some antibiotics. We’ll wait about a week for your lab results. If you aren’t feeling better in three days, then come back here.”

I thought I’d just swallow pills and be okay, yet after about a week, I was still getting this burning sensation down there and a terrible pain in my left abdomen. I really thought I had appendicitis for some reason, but I couldn’t quite figure out the left/right. I mean, if you look in the mirror it’s the opposite way right? I even snapped a photo of me touching the area of my abdomen that was in pain and then verifying with images on Google to see if I got the correct side. Hoseok couldn’t stand my constant Googling of appendicitis so he decided to follow me to the clinic again. This time, my doctor ordered an ultrasound for my pelvic and abdomen area. She didn’t think I needed to take more antibiotics, but the lab results hadn’t been out yet.

I took her advice, but the next day the burning pain around my lower area was intolerable. Whenever I walked, I felt like I was chafing against some awful, thick rug. When I took a step, I needed to open up my legs to form a huge V. Basically, I walked like a thug wearing business casual. This time I was the one that begged Hoseok to drive me to the doctor’s office because I couldn’t stand walking so slowly and so awkwardly to the clinic. When Dr. Nolan saw me, I could tell that she had a “you” again face. Luckily, the lab results were out and . . . she had given me the wrong antibiotics! My bacteria culture needed amoxicillin, but I was given another type of drug. Dr. Nolan was also worried that I might have gotten a yeast infection and wanted to look at my vagina more carefully.

So now . . . we’re at this stage where Hoseok is sitting across from me. There’s a curtain that separates us. Dr. Nolan has instructed me to take off my underwear, spread my legs apart, and to lie still. She tells me that she will be touching me there to examine my vagina and then she will stick in something to get a sample of my vagina.

“It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!” I yelp continuously.

“Sorry,” Dr. Nolan apologizes. “I can stop.”

I’m worried that she didn’t get enough of a sample, so I murmur, “N-N-No . . . I can . . . try to endure . . . it.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just stop,” she tells me. “You can dress up again and we’re pretty much done. I’ll write you a prescription as well, and you will know the results in about a week.”

When Hoseok and I leave the clinic and head to the pharmacy, he asks me, “Are you all right?”

I try to process that thought of pain in my head while I hand my information to the pharmacist. I mean if sticking that thing in my vagina already hurt like a mother fucker, then . . . having sex in the future . . . is going to be even more painful. A penis is far larger than that little swab! What am I going to do? I can’t support a penis there. I just can’t.

“Gemma?” Hoseok calls me. “You okay?”

“I . . . um . . .” Am I really going to voice my concerns to him? This is so embarrassing. I need to think of a lie, but I can’t seem to think of one at all. Oh what the heck. I tug on his sleeve and wave my hand downwards to beckon him to bend to my height. Hoseok leans towards me, letting me whisper in his ear, “After this checkup, I realized that if it hurts so much to have that stick in me, then what about sex? Like I’m . . . really scared that sex is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Hoseok bursts out laughing and then gives me a pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it!” he assures me. “I’ll make sure you’re not hurt.”

“How?” I wonder.

“I’ll show you when the time comes,” he says and even winks at me. “At least wait until you’re all better.”

“I-I-I-I’m not in a hurry!” I stammer. “I don’t need it . . . I think. I’ve been fine without it all these years.”

“You haven’t tried it yet, so you can’t say that,” he argues. “Besides . . . I don’t plan on living like a monk.”

“If you need it, then . . . what have you been doing lately to umm . . .”

As I take my pills from the pharmacist, Hoseok snickers, “Do you really want to know?”

“As long as you’re not cheating on me, then I’m fine,” I say.

We continue to walk out of the store and head to the car. When the two of us enter the car, Hoseok finally states, “I masturbate while thinking of you. There are a lot of things that I’d like to do to you, you know?”

“Rated R stuff?” I don’t even know why I’m asking such a rhetorical question. Beats me.

“What else?”

“And your perfect sex fantasy is?”

“Gemma, you’re actually being kind of naughty today,” Hoseok makes a tsk noise before adding.

“Just answer my question.”

“I actually have two.”

“Two?”

“One is kind of sacrilegious, but I’m an atheist so I guess that doesn’t matter. Another one is where you take control, so which one do you want to hear?” he asks.

“Uhh . . . I’m kind of curious about the sacrilegious one,” I scratch my chin and mutter.

“Mhm. All right,” he replies and makes a left turn. “You’d be wearing your wedding dress and we’d be having sex at a church. Your gown doesn’t come off though.”

“Okay . . .”

I’m now thinking back to the wedding gown he bought me. Somehow that gift doesn’t seem too romantic now. I can’t even imagine getting that dress dirty or doing anything naughty in it. The most dangerous thing I’d do with it would just to dance in that dress. I mean I’d cry if I even had just a splash of oil or even a speck of dirt on that gown.

“I guess the other one is more normal,” he utters. “It’s just you doing all the work while I’m tied up and I can’t touch you.”

How come that doesn’t sound that normal either? _Fifty Shades of Grey_ on reverse? “Are you a masochist, Hoseok?” I double check.

“No. It’s just you rarely initiate anything, so it’d be nice if . . . once a while you were more affectionate.”

I feel a bit guilty after hearing that I don’t really show my feelings towards Hoseok. I guess it’s because I’m not that deeply in love yet that I can’t really be comfortable enough just to kiss him. I get shy as well if I had to kiss him first. Somehow it feels natural for him to be touchier while I just accept his advances.

“Hoseok . . .” I ponder aloud. “Are you really frustrated because well . . . you have to resort to . . . umm . . .”

He admits, “Sometimes I do get frustrated because it’s hard for me to stop myself, but . . . at the end of the day, I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want you to be scared or uncomfortable.” Although he has his eyes on the road, I can still feel his sincerity through his words. “Anyway I’ve been waiting for all these years for you, so . . . I guess I’m kind of used to waiting?” he adds a chuckle at the end of his phrase.

When I hear his reply, I can’t help but feel like I’m such a lucky girl. A lot of guys probably would have just ignored me or quit chasing after me, yet Hoseok stood by me. Some awful ones might have pressured me to have sex. He waited patiently and never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. I know I’m not ready yet to move onto the next level in our relationship, but at least . . . I can snuggle beside him right?

Once a red traffic light comes, I lean my head on his shoulder and link my arm with his. “Thank you for waiting,” I tell him. “I know I’m dense and slow. I’m really dumb when it comes to love, so I’m glad that you’re letting me take things slowly.” 

“Can I take that as you’re falling for me?” Hoseok wonders.

I give him a peck on his cheek and then back away. I pretend to look out the window at the stores we are passing by, but I can faintly see my own reflection. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. Just when I think I can relax, my cell phone starts ringing.

I pick up to find Irene demanding, “Next weekend, you have to try out the menu with me. Hoseok said he’d be willing to help, so bring him along.”

“Do I have to—“

“Yes, it’s important and I want to spend some more time with you before I get married,” Irene responds. “We already don’t get time to hang out.”

I don’t understand why she wants to hang out with me now. All these years she has always told me to pretend that we aren’t even related if she is out with her friends and she meets me coincidently. She never mentions to other people that we’re siblings. I’ve always been in the dark, yet now she wants to act like a good older sister? Why? To complete her wedding day?

I’m about to roar at Irene over the phone, but I notice the car pull over and feel Hoseok slither his fingers in between mine and then interlocks our hands. I glimpse at him out of the corner of my eye and then he squeezes my hand once, seemingly telling me that it’s okay. He mouths, “You should go.”

“Fine,” I agree reluctantly and sigh.

 “Awesome! I’ll text you all the details later! Ciao!”

“You told me before about how you feel sometimes about your sister, but I’m glad you still are going,” Hoseok tells me out of the blue. “Even if you hate her, she is still your sister.”

“I know. It’s just tough sometimes,” I explain. “She likes to take and take, and right now I just need a break from her. Don’t you ever want to get away from your siblings?”

He presses a button to restart his engine before answering, “We hardly talk, so that’s not an issue.”

“Why don’t you guys talk?”

“We’ve just led our own lives.”

While Hoseok keeps his eyes on the road, I can’t help but wonder why he and his siblings are distant with one another. I can’t seem to guess the right reason because I can’t imagine Hoseok being in the same situation as me. I’m not sure if it’s right to even ask him anything further. Family can be a sensitive topic for some people. At least for me, it is.

But . . .

“You’re a bit of a hypocrite,” I murmur and focus on the silver Toyota that is in front of us.

 Hoseok doesn’t speak for a long time until we are close to my apartment building. As he parks the car, he finally utters, “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes as me.”

“What mistakes have you made?” I ask.

As expected, Hoseok simply laughs: "Haha."


	17. Double Date

 

I always had the impression that double dates would be interesting because it’d be a gathering filled with friends. Sadly I’m completely wrong because the first double date I’m at involves two other characters: Irene and Bogum. Irene is already obnoxious by herself, but when there’s also Bogum who I kind of had a rift with, I don’t feel very well. My stomach is churning way too much acid that I kind of want to throw up. I’m at the point where I really want to shut myself in a washroom stall even when that place is probably dirty. I don’t care because this atmosphere is too awkward. Why can’t I have a time travelling power? Huh?

Hoseok occasionally shoots glares at Bogum. Hoseok’s glares remind me of harsh daggers that have been thrown by a skilled ninja. Every single of them hits Bogum’s eyes. Bogum just stares emotionlessly back at Hoseok. The unaffected Bogum is clearly winning this battle because no matter how harsh Hoseok is, Bogum doesn’t loosen his guard.

Meanwhile, Irene is completely oblivious to these two. She is too engrossed in finding the perfect menu for her princess-themed wedding. She keeps asking the manager what wine should be paired with lamb or medium-rare steak. I don’t follow their conversation because wine names have always confused me. Merlot, chardonnay, pinot noir—all those names end up sounding the same to me. I can’t get out my phone to play Candy Crush to distract myself or try out Pokemon Go because I’d have to walk around the city. Instead I’m stuck here, just trying to cut my steak into even squares without making any squeaky sounds.

“Oh Gem,” Hoseok chirps and switches his glare into a gentle gaze. “You’ve got some sauce here.”

I’m about to wipe my mouth with my hand, yet he takes his napkin to carefully brush against my skin. Before the cloth can even touch me, Hoseok scoots closer to me and his head inches towards me too quickly. His tongue licks the sauce at the edge of my mouth and then he grins at his manager.

“Augustin,” Hoseok comments, “please give my compliments to Chef Leroy. His Bordelaise sauce is magnificent.”

His manager who looks to be in his early forties has a slightly flustered face and even hangs his face lowly. “Thank you,” he states in a thick French accent. “I-I will pass your remarks to the chef. I am sure he would be more than delighted that you praised him.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok answers before turning his attention back to me. Without any difficulties, Hoseok manages to pry open his lobster, using just a knife and a fork. He cuts a few slices and places them on my plate. “Try the Lobster Thermidor. It’s to die for here. The cognac that they use at this restaurant is—“

“Gemma doesn’t like hard liquor,” Bogum interrupts.

“Oh really? I remember she had no issues finishing four shots of vodka in a row,” Hoseok retorts.

Bogum gawks at me that screams: “Gemma, are you serious that you drank that much? You used to make a horrid face whenever you smelled alcohol.”

“Isn’t that right, Gemma?” Hoseok even adds to set off some fire.

“Th-That was just one night,” I murmur very quietly, “and . . . it was because of a dare anyway.”

Despite how timid my voice is, Bogum still picks up on the last few words of my sentence: “A dare? I thought you hated playing truth or dare.”

Yes, I still hate truth or dare. However, at that time when Hoseok, Namjoon, Namjoon’s ex-girlfriend, Wheein, and I were hanging out, the idea of finding out more dirty secrets about one another intrigued me. I ended up learning that Namjoon lost his virginity when he was sixteen and it was to a nerdy girl who turned out to be some sex addict. Wheein revealed that her first time was in a bathroom stall at camp when she was eighteen. She was a camp counsellor and wanted to get rid of her first time to someone experienced. She picked a fellow camp counsellor. I also learned that the weirdest spot Hoseok ever had sex and that was at a funeral. He said that his friend who had just lost her father was very upset and needed some comforting and they ended up doing it at some empty room around the place of the funeral.

Speaking of awkwardness, I forgot to mention how we’re seated so you can understand just how horrifying this situation is. This table is in the shape of a circle; I guess you can say it’s more like a lounge. Hoseok and Irene are at the edges, while Bogum and I are squashed in the centre. In a fascinating world of dramas, I’m squished by two hot guys that are fighting against each other for my attention? I might be too full of myself now, so let’s just not go there. I’m pretty sure Bogum just dislikes Hoseok’s personality in general. He thinks Hoseok is too full of himself and isn’t treating me seriously. As for Hoseok, I think he hates people like Bogum—the serious, responsible, steady type that Hoseok deems as “fucking boring”. Now they’re asking me to pick sides: childhood best friend versus college best friend. Those are two people that came in different points of my life! How am I supposed to choose? There’s probably someone yelling in the background: “Bitch you can’t have both!” Yes, I know. I have to piss someone off and I guess that’d have to be . . .

“Well, well, people change,” I mumble and then alter the subject. “So um . . . the lobster, I’ll try that right away. Cognac is good too. Let’s order some more alcohol.”

I can’t believe the demand for alcohol slipped from my mouth. Eeks. I’m that desperate?

“Gemma, I don’t think it’s good to drink this early in the day,” Bogum reminds me. He’s nearly glaring at me because I sided with Hoseok, but I already chose to save Hoseok in the ocean if the two of them were to drown right? Oh server, just come by so I can get my alcohol.

“Gem Gem, I’m so surprised that you’d wanna drink too! My baby sis has changed so much!” Irene chirps while taking another bite of her lamb. “Is it because of Mr. Charming over here?”

She winks at Hoseok and even licks her lips in an enticing manner. Oh God. Her flirting is on. It’s on. She’s flirting with my boyfriend! This is embarrassing, gross, and annoying. I can feel my hand that has been resting on my seat clench into a fist, a damned fist of fury. My shoulders are tensing and only relax when I feel Hoseok sling his arm around them.

“I wouldn’t consider myself charming,” Hoseok answers before teasing me. “But maybe . . . someone here does?” He glances at me and coyly grins, making me want to throw a pie at him. Why does he have to embarrass me here? I’m not comfortable with so much open affection in front of two other people!

“Being too charming can come off as being too cheesy,” Bogum remarks in a cold tone. “Gemma, I remember you saying that you hated guys who reminded you of Casa Nova.”

“But she always hates men who are boring, isn’t that right, Gem?” Hoseok fires back.

Now is the only time that I wished I smoked. Then I would be able to excuse myself and leave to smoke. Should I fake diarrhea? I think I’ve escaped to the toilet too many times before. No one is going to buy that. I need to be brave here because if they meet again, this fight will keep going.

Even worse, Irene pops the question, “So Hoseok, when do you plan on marrying my baby sis?”

“Any time is fine,” Hoseok casually replies. “It’s honestly just up to Gemma to figure out when.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet!” she compliments. “I had to keep telling stupid Bogum here that I wanted to settle down and eventually when he considered his timeline, he agreed.” Bogum ignores her comment and continues to work on his plate. Irene turns her attention to me and questions, “So Gem Gem, what’s your timeline then?”

“I-I-I haven’t really thought about—“

“You have such a wonderful man waiting for you,” Irene cuts me off. “What are you waiting for?”

Maybe because I’ve only gone on one proper date with Hoseok? We haven’t even had sex? We haven’t even gone on a romantic vacation together? I’m not ready to have children? I haven’t said I love him yet to him? How am I supposed to say those things?

Hoseok’s arm slides down to wrap around my waist as he asks her, “Why are you so interested all of a suddenly?”

“She’s my baby sister. Of course, I want her happiness to come as soon as possible!” Irene explains.

“You don’t have to worry about her,” Hoseok replies. “The two of us will work out something together. There’s no rush.” He gives me a peck on the top of my forehead before holding onto my hand. I feel a squeeze from him as his long fingers interlock with mine. He’s telling me not to worry and not to think too much and to just let things flow naturally.

I breathe a sigh of relief and glance at him with a smile. I mouth a quiet thank you and resume eating. The rest of the lunch actually ends up being okay. Irene stops pestering with the bothersome questions and Bogum doesn’t bug Hoseok and vice versa. After we’ve said our good-byes, I exhale a long breath.

“Finally, it’s over!” I cheer with my hands in the air.

“It was that bad for you?” Hoseok ponders.

“Yup. So bad.”

“Shall we do something more interesting then?” he suggests.

“Like?”

Hoseok takes my hand and we’re off to some arcade. We’re surrounded by teenagers and middle school students. I can feel their gazes on us, but Hoseok just holds onto my hand tightly to lead me to some shooting game with zombies.

“This is a good thing to play to get your mind off of things,” he utters.

“Oh goodness,” I mumble while grabbing onto one of the guns. “How long has it been since we’ve played this type of game?”

Hoseok bends down to insert some coins and chuckles. “What? You’re still trying to forget how badly I whooped your ass the last time?”

“Can we not remind me of my dark ages?” I grumble.

“Yes, the fact that you got lost in the game and ended up committing suicide. Mhm,” he mumbles, “Meanwhile I had to do all the tough leg work and I think there was a crowd cheering me on. Maybe let’s do a throwback?”

I nudge his arm with the tip of the gun. “Yeah no,” I scoff.

“We’ll see about that.”

Indeed, Hoseok manages to succeed in this game and I’m just like a lost sheep wandering around the dungeon, shooting at whatever comes at me. I’m not the best partner; no actually I suck. Hoseok, on the other hand, really is doing all the hard work. I even shoot at him once. Like before, he attracts some teenage boys who are cheering on him. Some of girls are ogling at him; I can just see them from the corner of my eye. Oh God. Why am I feeling nervous? Why do I feel like he just might be . . . too good for me? I’m at the point where I want to throw the gun away and walk from this scene. Maybe I’ll just watch him play. He’ll do better without me.

“Yeah, Gem, if you don’t get your points up by at least 5,000, you’re going to owe me a meal,” he lightly threatens.

“I thought I was getting free lunches for life,” I snicker.

“Maybe it’s time to change that.”

I feel my blood boiling a bit. “Hey! Some things aren’t allowed to change,” I urge him.

I focus hard on the game and look left to right for some aliens or zombies. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Stupid Hoseok. Stupid Bogum. Stupid Irene. They’re all damn stupid at this point. So annoying. Why did she have to make things awkward at that time? I just wanted to do things naturally. Why was Bogum making things tough? If he cared about me then why had he rejected me before? Why does it feel like he is jealous? Why am I caring about Bogum’s reactions? Ugh. I think I’m the most annoying of them all. I’m the real unappreciative bitch. There’s Hoseok already on my side. Really, I think I’m the most irritated about myself.

“See?” Hoseok notes. “You can do it if you put your mind to it.”

“I’m just mad, you know,” I murmur.

“You’re just frustrated,” he tells me. “That’s why I suggested the arcade. You can’t shoot a real person but at least in virtual reality, you can get rid of whatever is frustrating for you.”

“Aren’t you afraid that . . . virtual reality will become reality?” I suddenly pose.

Hoseok stays silent and the crowd’s cheers mask everything away. I’m left wondering whether I’ve hit on a sensitive point. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him that. I promised I wouldn’t force him to dive deeper until he was ready. Plus we’re in a public setting. I guess I should have been more considerate, but I’m curious. Taking a quick glimpse at him, I see the coldness reflecting in his pupils. I know he is concentrating on the game but I can’t help and ponder who he’s really imagining when he’s targeting these zombies.

“Did you used to play this game often?” I ask and take another shot at a zombie to my left.

“Started in middle school,” he explains. “Not this game exactly, but shooting games in general.”

“This was stress relief?”

“I guess you could put it that way,” he mumbles nearly inaudibly.

“I used to just yell in the elevators or do some karaoke by myself,” I tell him.

Hoseok snickers, “Haha. I’d love to see that.”

“Which? The yelling or the karaoke?”

“Both,” he utters. He lets himself die in the game by committing suicide and a high score appears. The crowd gets upset that he just decided to end the game, but Hoseok suggests, “You up for some karaoke?”

“You serious?”

Giving me a nod, he replies, “Of course I’m serious. I’m ready to be serenaded.”

Indeed, Hoseok ends up sitting in the karaoke like a Monarch. He even crosses his legs and has a look that screams: “Come at me. I dare you.” I feel like a clown who is about to perform some skit in front of the King who just might hang my head if all goes wrong. I’m holding onto the microphone and clear my throat.

“I-I-I think we should sing together,” I propose.

“I’m not much of a singer, you know?” he utters. “I really prefer to listen. The stage is yours.”

“Y-Y-You’re not allowed to judge me, okay?” I say. “I haven’t done this in a while, so I might be like tone deaf or I might be off the beat. I might not even remember—“

“Relax, Gem,” Hoseok reassures me. “I won’t bite . . . hard.”

Jesus. My palms are getting sweaty. This is like that Eminem song. The first song hits and it’s a Disney one. Better to be safe right? Start with a few old classics here and there? It’s the cheesy _A Whole New World_. Worse off, I’m doing both parts because someone here refuses to sing.

The thick-skinned Hoseok even adds, “Show me the world, Gemma! I want you to show me the world.” Oh god, I think. Zap me away. He now stands up and walks towards me. I nearly miss the next line and take a step back. He is so close to me yet he doesn’t touch me at all. Raising one side of his lips, he whispers, “I’m waiting for you to show me the world.”

“St-St-Stop teasing me,” I stammer.

“That’s not part of the song,” he says.

“You’re not playing fair.” My voice echoes loudly from the microphone.

“You don’t have to mind me,” he taunts.

When he’s standing this close to me, how can I not mind him? I look back at the screen to follow along with the words, hoping that I’ll be distracted. Yes, I’ll just focus on singing, but zap. He ends the song before I can finish and a song from Carly Rae Jepsen plays. It’s called “I really, really like you.” Hoseok snickers without revealing any of his teeth. That annoying smirk of his. He’s really enjoying this because I’ll be confessing to him through a song. I can’t even press cut because the remote is in his hands. He waves the little gadget in front of me and nods. Fine, I think. If he wants me to go all out then I’ll shock him.

I start dancing and singing along. When I hit the chorus where I have to keep singing: “I really really really really really really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?”, I dash to the couches, kick off my shoes, and jump around to the beat.

Hoseok snatches me from the couch and gives me a hug. I can feel his cheek pressing against my chest as he states in a deep, seductive tone: “I want you too.”

I feel my body tingling and before I can react, Hoseok is already lightly kissing my bosom. It’s not helping that I’m wearing a V neck so I can actually feel his lips touch my skin. “I-I-I was just joking,” I stammer.

He sets me on the couch, leading my back to lie against the leather surface. His lips trail up my neck and to my earlobes. He whispers seductively in my ear, “It seemed kind of serious.”

“W-W-Well I was going by the lyrics!” I explain while crossing my arms over my face. I don’t want him to see my reddened cheeks and I certainly don’t feel like having an intense make out session. It just feels rather embarrassing and I don’t like how different I become.

I’m expecting Hoseok to continue to tease me, yet he doesn’t touch me and simply remarks, “Let’s call it a night, okay?”

“Wait . . . what?” I sit up and blurt.

“What?” He snickers. “You wanted more?”

“Usually you’re—“

“I already decided,” he cuts me off to explain, “that I won’t be touching you first anymore. If you want some sort of contact, then you’ll have to initiate it.” Hoseok is starting to wear his jacket and is prepared to leave this karaoke room. He looks me in the eye with a confused expression: “You’re going to stay here by yourself?”

“No . . .” My voice tapers off.

Seriously . . . I don’t get this 180 degree change. I respect that he didn’t continue on, but this is totally unlike him. He’s all about the touchiness and now he’s going on a “hands off” mode? Just what in the world is he doing? Really, I’m lost.


	18. First Touch

In the midst of Googling all these keywords during my break time for the past few days: boyfriend stops touching me, boyfriend is not affectionate anymore, boyfriend is being shy, boyfriend doesn’t initiate kisses, and more, Wheein gives me a call after work. I’m lucky that Hoseok has been out of the country for work, so I get my place to myself. I guess you can say that Wheein had good timing because the more articles or forum posts I read the more puzzled I get. I feel like I’ll never know the answer unless I’m the one that starts . . . touching him.

Of course, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is: “So did you guys do it yet? Yeah? Yeah? How was it?” When I’m hesitating to answer, she already knows what I’m going to say. “Oh my fucking God! Gemma, can I seriously come over to your place and bitch slap you? I might as well do it in front of Hoseok too. I’m sure he’d approve.” I explain to her the situation which causes her to groan, “Can you not come here to brag about how much he loves you?”

“But . . . it’s weird that he’s doing this!” I mumble and kick my feet back and forth on my bed. Right after work, I got changed into my pajamas and even delayed dinner just to try to figure this whole situation out.

“Can’t you just use your brain a bit to think about this?” Wheein bellows.

“What do you mean?” I wonder and continue to Google answers on my laptop.

She overhears my tapping because I’ve put her on speaker phone. Immediately, Wheein hollers, “Don’t tell me that you’re seriously Googling for answers! This isn’t legal research class, okay? And let me remind you that you got your first C there, way below the curve. I still remember you bitching about that awful racist professor who—“

“Cut it out!” I urge. “She still gives me the nightmares. Her scary glasses and huge ass forehead. Brr. Can’t believe someone would marry that witch.”

“Maybe she’s great in bed.”

“Ew! Let’s not go there,” I warn her.

“Fine. Fine. Since you’re Googling, why don’t you search some images of objects that’ll familiarize yourself with the important organ?”

I scratch the side of my head, mumbling, “Organ?”

“Think cucumbers, egg plants, sticks—“

“What?” I nearly strain my neck from the shock. “I’m not Googling penises!”

Wheein sighs before uttering, “But knowing you, you might freak out and maybe faint after seeing a real one. Have you even seen one in real life?”

“M-M-My dog’s,” I stammer quietly, “b-b-b-but I tried hard not to stare. Seemed . . . rude.”

“Oh my God!”

I can just imagine Wheein beside me, shaking me back and forth. I’m glad we are just doing this over the phone. Before she can go crazy some more, I add, “B-B-But I’ve seen textbook diagrams? We had to label the male reproductive system for Biology in high school! I’m sure once I see the real thing, I’ll be able to name—“

“This isn’t Biology class!” Wheein cuts me off. I can hear her slamming something hard onto her table. I’m presuming she’s drinking some beer right now out of frustration. “God! I don’t even want to talk to you. Just like . . . pull down Hoseok’s pants and give that dick of his a good look.”

The thought of Hoseok without any pants makes me want to bury my face in a pillow. Ah, my cheeks are burning so much. I prefer him clothed. Stay clothed, Hoseok, I think to myself.

Wheein continues to lecture, “Seriously . . . just go watch some porn to at least know what a dick looks like in real life. As for sex advice from porn . . . yeah don’t. Just let Hoseok do the leg work.”

“Sid!” I blurt out of embarrassment.

 “Gosh,” she rambles. “I don’t get how you got through law school and can’t even figure this thing out. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re not helping,” I stress.

“Of course I’m not helping! I’m already annoyed that I’m damn single and am meeting all these fuck boys. So yes, of course I’m not helping . . . for the time being,” she grumbles. “Come see me in two or three weeks if you’re still struggling.”

“But—“

“I have faith in you that you’ll figure it out. Plus what’s the harm in just touching him? He’s not like Jesus Christ.”

“Can you at least be a bit respectful about—“

“It’s the truth. Stop worshipping him and start fucking him.”

“Can you not—“

“That’s part of a relationship, you know? You’re going to have sex. If you do get married and want to have children with him, you’re going to have to do it with him. Better do it earlier and see if you’re compatible then wait till marriage and then realise you two don’t match. Then what? Divorce? You and I both know how annoying divorces can be.”

“I didn’t take family law,” I murmur.

“Well I did! It can get pretty fucked up. Obviously a pre-nup helps, but . . . anyway, don’t tell me that you’re not physically attracted to him or to others in general?” she explains. “That’s a different story.”

“It’s not that—“

“Okay, so you do get sexually charged. Good to know. Now go on. Liberate yourself a bit and cut off your chastity belt when you’re not even religious in the first place.”

Doo. Doo. Doo.

Sometimes I really wonder how we’re even close friends, especially when I get two text messages from her. One is a screen shot of her online orders and then the other is her explaining that I’ll be receiving those in two days. She purposely did express shipping just for me. Now what are those online orders?

  1. The book, Kama Sutra
  2. Sexy lingerie
  3. A dildo
  4. A vibrator
  5. Condoms
  6. Lube
  7. Tylenol
  8. A maid outfit



A final text is of her saying that this is my Christmas gift and that I should really appreciate how thoughtful she is. I am totally speechless and just send her some ellipses. She gives me an emoticon that is rolling its eyes and then recommends me some good porn titles or if I’m this worried, then she says I should try watching hentai.

I click on one of the links and see animated video of two girls and one guy. They are wearing school uniforms and nothing bad is happening. Then they go to a locker room and some cheesy lines are said. The guy starts groping one of the brunette’s huge boobs and she starts moaning. The other girl is removing the guy’s belt and unzipping his zip to touch his dick. How can something so innocent turn so . . . They were all just at school? Is this what kids are like these days?

Worst off, I was so focused that I didn’t even hear Hoseok come home. I only realized that he came back when he bursts into my room, drenched from head to toe.

“I’m going to shower now, so I’m gonna borrow your blow dryer,” he utters while trying to wipe his hair dry with a grey face towel.

I’m trying to tune down the sound, but I end up pumping up the volume, so I yell as loud as I can: “Okay! You go do that!” I’m now trying to close the window, but the weird moans are getting louder and louder. I try to mask those noises by continuing to shout, “Why are you so wet? I thought you were going to be home later! Did you—“

“Okay,” Hoseok snickers while heading in my direction. I just have my mouse over that X sign when Hoseok snatches my laptop away from me. I sincerely want to run to a corner and bang my head on the wall several times. If I could teleport now, I would. Maybe I can go back in time? Huh?

“I-I-I can’t explain!” I close my eyes, bury my face in my hands, hide in between my knees, and exclaim.

He doesn’t let me explain in any way and instead concludes, “So that’s what you’re into! You want a threesome?”

“No!” I instantly refute and stand on my feet on my bed. “No threesomes!”

“Then you’re into . . . hentai?” he asks.

“Wheein just linked it to me for educational purposes,” I murmur.

Hoseok marches confidently towards me as if he were a runway model. Subsequently, he climbs onto the bed; his reaction makes me take a few steps back until I hop off the bed from the other side. Before I can run off, he manages to whisper in my ear, “If you wanted to learn, you could have just asked me. I’d teach you. Do you . . . want that?”

I stumble on my own feet and land on my butt. Pointing at him, I hark, “Y-Y-You said you wouldn’t touch me first!”

He smiles at me in a fake manner where his eyes are like crescent moons and his lips curl up too widely. “I didn’t touch you at all,” he emphasizes.

I really hate that at this time, the video is still playing because when we’re not distracted by our own conversation, we can hear the weird groans and high-pitched, squeaky female voices. My laptop is far away from me where it is back on the other side of the bed. Damn it. Hoseok is blocking it and . . . he’s making my bed all wet! I just notice that droplets of water keep dripping from his body to my blanket. Where am I going to sleep tonight then? Huh?

“G-G-Go take a shower!” I demand. “You’re make a puddle on my bed!”

Hoseok winks at me and blows me a kiss. “I’m showering you with love,” he jokes and shakes his hair back and forth like a dog who just finished a bath.

“Go!” My finger directs him to the door.

The background music is still of sex noises. Jesus. Let me shut down and try to maintain my sanity and dignity. Now Hoseok will think that I’m super horny. I’m a decent human being. I hope he doesn’t get bad thoughts because I’m definitely not ready yet. I haven’t even researched the level of pain I’d be experiencing during sex. I can barely take a needle to my arm. Last time I got a biopsy on my vulva, I cried tears of agony and wanted to give up on life all together. Now a penis breaking my hymen? How is that even going to be fun? Unless I’m a masochist? That I am not!

Even more annoying, my bed is soaked here and there. I definitely can’t sleep on this mattress for tonight. I guess I’m off to the couch. I pick up my pillow which thankfully didn’t have any water on it and head to the living room. Hoseok happens to come out of the bathroom, wearing his white bathrobe. As he wipes his hair with another towel, he suggests, “You can sleep in my bed tonight.”

As I’m placing the pillow on the couch, I look at him and ask, “Then where are you sleeping?”

“We can both squeeze in the bed!” he says. Since I give him an evil eye, Hoseok shows me his attempt of a sexy pose where he does a half lunge and leans his head back. His hands stretch the face towel behind his back while his tongue licks his lips. Giving me a wink, he jokes, “Oh come on girl. You know you want some sexy time.”

I throw the pillow I just set down a minute ago and it hits his chest instead of his face. As soon as the pillow bounces from his body to the ground, Hoseok grabs a hold of this new found weapon and comes to attack me. I’m running away from him, but he jumps over the couch before I can escape to the kitchen. I can only surrender and lie on my back as he hovers over me with a pillow in his hand.

“Y-Y-You said you wouldn’t touch me!” I remind me while covering my face and curling my legs.

“I’m not,” he snickers as the pillow first grazes my waist before being pressed more firmly onto me. Hoseok isn’t even touching me, yet I can feel his body’s presence on top of me. I can hear his voice crisply project these words: “Do you want me to continue?”

“Continue as in?” I mumble. My face is facing the button on the sofa and definitely not making any eye contact with Hoseok.

“Are you pretending to play dumb or are you being serious here?” he questions.

I murmur, “I just . . . want to know what’ll happen next.”

“But isn’t that boring?” he wonders.

“No,” I correct him. “It’s reassuring.”

“Fine. Then I’ll let you know what’ll happen next,” he clarifies and clears his throat. “I’d make out heavily with you. I’ll kiss you from the neck, down to your tummy, your thighs, and then—“

“Okay! That’s a bit too graphic,” I cut him off.

“You wanted instructions,” he argues. “Now take your pick.”

I sit up properly, leading him to take the seat beside me. He has his heels touching each other as if he were stretching his inner thighs in gym class. His eyes gaze at me intently until I decide to answer, “Can’t we . . . just kiss . . . normally?”

“And your definition of normal is?” he scoffs.

I crawl towards him and once I’m about an inch away from him, I close my eyes and pucker my lips. I place a gentle peck on his lips and then retreat. “Like that,” I tell him.

“That’s it?” he grumbles under his breath.

“F-F-F-For now?” I stammer while staring at my nails. “I-I-I’m slow okay? I’m not like you! You’ve slept with so many women!”

“Then . . . why don’t you try increasing the amount of times you kiss me for each passing day?” he suggests. “Like for today, you completed one kiss, so the next day, you’ll kiss me twice and then the following, you’ll kiss me three times.”

“Th-Th-That’s sounds fair?”

Hoseok proceeds to add a few rules, “The catch is that if you want to decrease the quantity of kisses, then you must increase the quality or intensity of your kisses.”

“What?” I shout at him, nearly spitting in his eye. “That’s—“

“That’ll be fun and you’ll get practice!” Hoseok grins from ear to ear. It’s that annoying billion dollar smile that no one can deny where I can see his whole set of teeth and his puffy cheeks.

“And I have to initiate all of them?” I confirm.

“At least for now?”

He’s about to walk away to blow dry his half-dried hair when I grab onto his bath robe. I don’t mean to untangle anything, but the stupid me grasps the piece that ties the bath robe together ad yanks that belt down. He’s shifting his heel back to face me as all this happens and so I get a clear view of his naked upper torso and also his private region. He chuckles at me as I yelp and go off to the corner of the sofa.

“Wow,” he teases. “You’re so eager huh? I’m down with that if—“

“Just get dressed!” I bellow.

My eyes are shut at this point and after a minute or so, Hoseok announces, “I’m all done! You can open your eyes now.”

I actually believe him, only to find that he is squatting in front of me. His eyes are near my eye level, yet I can still see that his bathrobe is very loosely tied. As he leans forward, I can clearly see the deep V that exposes his chest and then there’s that . . . area again. I punch his arm and complain, “Hoseok! You’re so awful!”

He laughs at me wholeheartedly like a horse before commenting, “Gosh I just love to tease you. You’re so gullible. It’s hilarious.”

My hand pinch his lips together to make him look like an octopus. “Don’t tease me so much,” I threaten him. “You know how I like to get revenge.”

“Try me,” he continues to taunt.

“I’ll get a pet snake,” I declare and let go of him.

“You don’t dare!” he utters.

Although Hoseok might look like a tough guy, he’s actually super freaked out about snakes, most creatures, and ghosts. He can’t take any of them and starts shrieking like a hyper little girl. Once we visited a zoo and the zookeeper was getting the visitors to try petting the snakes and placing them on our necks. I really wanted to touch the snake, so I lined up and dragged Hoseok with me. At first he acting like he wasn’t scared at all and that this would be a piece of cake. Once he sat in the stool and the zookeeper was about to place the snake around Hoseok’s neck, Hoseok jolted and even squealed. That reaction of his was priceless. Man I should have taken a photo of him then.

“I will if you keep acting like a punk!” I warn him and cross my arms.

As he adjusts his robes appropriately, he tells me, “Fine. I’ll play nice. You can sleep on my bed and I’ll take the couch.”

My couch isn’t exactly very long, so I’m sure that it won’t fit Hoseok’s legs. He’ll be all cramped up here and what if he rolls off the couch and breaks his other arm? Then he’ll be at my place for a longer time! I give in and be friendly to him too.

“We can . . . share the bed together,” I speak very rapidly, almost biting my tongue. “We’ve already done that before.”

Hoseok’s bright smile beams and I feel like I’ve been graced by warm summer sunlight. “I’ll dry my hair completely and you can get ready too,” he utters before disappearing down the hallway.

By the time I’m finished changing into my pajamas, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, Hoseok has already climbed into the bed. The whole room is dark and I can only see that shred of light showing the open spot he has left for me. Luckily I have a little wall lamp that I plug in around the corridor or else I wouldn’t have been able to see anything. Looking at me with his darkened pupils, he beckons, “Well . . . come along.”

Like a little lamb, I quietly approach him and hop onto the bed. I’m too short for this bed, so I literally have to take a little jump. The bed bounces a bit as a result of my landing. When I lie beside him, I turn the other way so that we don’t make eye contact. I’m not used to seeing someone next to me at night. Hoseok, however, acts like the big spoon even when his arm is still not fully functional. I find this position weirder and so I end up turning around and hold him like a teddy bear. I usually cling to stuffed toys when I sleep anyway.

“Hoseok,” I mumble as my head ends up resting by his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I wish that you could be this obedient and quiet all the time.”

He jokes, “So you want a corpse?”

“No!” I object. “I just . . . like the quietness sometimes. It’s nice just . . . having you quietly be beside me.”

“I still prefer teasing you.”

I declare, “Pet snake.”

“Fine. Fine. Let’s just go to sleep. I’m pretty tired from all the flying.”

“Yeah,” I concur. “I also have to get up earlier for work tomorrow.”

“Meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Our conversation ends and we let our sleep selves get some rest. I’m about to drift off to sleep when I swear hearing Hoseok whispering so very quietly, “Gem, you know I . . . love you . . . even when you’re being annoying.”

I’m too groggy to respond and instead think in my head . . .

I know. I can feel it.

I hope I can . . . love you just as much.


	19. In His Eyes 03

The happier I am, the more unsettled I become. Deep down, I’m getting more anxious because the day that Gemma will know about everything in my past will come. I’m trying my best not to think too much, yet my apprehensions are confirmed when I get Namjoon’s long text message. He always sends the longest text messages I’ve ever encountered, the type that will span paragraphs. I usually ignore his long-winded messages and just read the first and last sentences. This time, I’m looking at each word carefully. To sum up the important points, Namjoon tells me that he met up with Gemma for lunch and that she was concerned about my behaviour after the night of drinking with him. He promises that he did not mention about my family and directed her to wait for me to open up to her. Though Namjoon can be annoying and whiny at times, I always know that I can trust him for important matters. He would never ever spread any rumours about me or tell people about my life story. He respects my privacy and I respect his as well.

Personally, I’m not ready to spill the beans. I want to make sure that Gemma is head over heels with me before she knows what she is getting into. I know. I know that I’m selfish, but I can’t stand the thought of her leaving me if she knew . . . the truth. I’m not brave enough as well to take the plunge. I’ll have to let her know slowly, at my pace. I hope she will understand that. I’m praying that she doesn’t sniff around too much, but knowing her, she will definitely dig around. She’s really like a sniffer dog.

In fact I catch her researching something on her I-pad and I’m pretty sure there was a tab about my sister. I intentionally approach her from behind and question, “What are you looking at?”

She’s definitely suspicious because she nearly drops her Ipad on the floor and squeals, “Jesus! You freaked me out.”

I conclude, “You must be doing something fishy.”

I watch her press the home button while mumbling, “It’s nothing!”

I take the opportunity to lightly tease her, “Must have been porn.”

“No!” She clings onto the I-pad with all her might.

“I was just joking. Chill,” I reassure her and loosen my tie. “Though I think your expression really reminds me of someone that got caught watching porn. You’re definitely hiding something from me.”

I give her an evil eye, hoping that she will confess what she’s up to. I also want to run a test. I want to see if she’ll really be loyal. I do trust her and can read her like a book, but I’m not 100% sure if I trust her in this relationship, especially when I know there are lingering feelings for Bogum. Fortunately, she confesses, “After that night when you asked me to pick you up, I just thought things weren’t as simple as they seemed. I know you don’t like talking about your family, but . . . I’ve started to think that I . . . should get to know you more or well, I want to know you on a deeper level.”

“Wow!” I exaggerate my excitement and point to her bedroom. “Could this be a prelude to . . .”

“I’m being serious here,” she reminds me. “I realized that we’re both hiding things. I mean, I don’t talk about my family either and I probably should.”

I know she’s not going to be ready to hear my story, so I tell her, “Let’s not do stuff we don’t want to do.”

She’s persistent though because she is running after me to the guestroom I’m living in. “I’m not doing something I don’t want to,” she argues.

I march to the closet and unbutton my shirt. “Are we playing a game where we’re trading secrets now?” I inquire.

“No,” she murmurs with her head hanging low.

“It sure seems like it,” I reply and carry on unbuttoning my shirt.

I’m hoping that if I’m changing in front of her, she will be very uneasy and will want to leave. Instead, her fists clench and her eyebrows furrow. She even stomps her feet once as she proclaims, “Maybe it does, but . . . if you’re afraid that I’ll be disappointed in you, then don’t be because I’m not as ‘good’ as you think I am. I have my hidden demons too.” I continue to disregard her and now move onto taking off my trousers. She professes, “You think I’m too kind to my sister, but there are times when I wished that she’d be gone. There are so many times when I just wanted to yell at her or even push her.”

“That’s fine,” I say and fold my trousers. I don’t even care about Gemma’s sister enough to worry about her well-being. If Irene were to do anything to Gemma, Gemma should be fearing for her sister’s safety.

“If something bad happens to her, I often find myself thinking that it’s karma or I’m even happy about it,” she continues to confess her sins. “It’s not right.”

“I understand,” I respond while opening the closet to grab a change of clothes which includes a pair of grey sweat pants and a cotton navy t-shirt. I understand very well how she feels because I’ve always secretly hoped that something bad would happen to Jihan whenever he bothered me. I didn’t want him to be unpunished for all of the awful things he did to me. I wanted him to suffer too.

“One of my greatest fears is my father coming to see me,” she blabs, “and asking me for money. I don’t want to see him anymore. I’m scared to see him. I don’t know what to do or say to him. I mean he wasn’t a great dad. He left us for another woman and never supported us. He didn’t like children too and . . . umm . . .”

After I put on my t-shirt, I caress her head a few times. I admire her guts; I can’t admit to anyone other than Namjoon what happened with Jihan. Namjoon doesn’t even know the details either. I can’t imagine her divulging about her father. She’s always shied away from that subject or avoided it all together, so for her to reveal nearly everything is . . . admirable.

“It’s okay, Gem,” I comfort her. “You don’t have to share more. I get it.”

She flicks my hand away and barks, “Th-That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” I shrug my shoulders, wondering.

“Lecture me? Get mad at me? Be disappointed?” she bellows. “I don’t know. Something more than this! You just seem to accept anything bad that I do.”

I do accept all her flaws. I’ve learned to do that over these years and have even grown to find them cute. Her bad sense of direction used to bother me because even if you gave her a compass or Google Maps, she’d still get lost somehow. I used to get annoyed when she kept talking about work or complain about her bad teammates. However, when I saw how much time and effort she poured into her work, I understood why she needed an outlet. There are other flaws that I forget now. Knowing that she sometimes has hateful feelings towards her own sister doesn’t bug me at all. Whatever Gemma has done can never be as bad as what I’ve done.

“I like your good and bad parts,” I conclude.

Out of the blue, Gemma hugs me from behind. I can feel her cheek leaning on my back, making my heart skip a few extra beats. “I . . . I want to do that too,” she mutters very softly.

“Thank you for sharing your secrets with me.” Her hand rests on top of mine. “Some things . . . are better left unsaid.”

She can sense my hesitation, so she holds on with more strength. “I’ll wait,” she voices, “until you’re ready. I’m sorry for pressuring you. I just . . . don’t want you to feel troubled.”

“Thank you . . . for understanding,” I answer quietly.

Once Gemma leaves, I feel a heavy weight lift from my shoulders. At least she’ll give me time to explain. Just wait until she falls for me completely, then I’ll let her know everything. For now, it’ll be a minor façade. I hope she knows that even if I can’t let her in fully, I’ll always be by her side. No matter what happens, I’ll be there.

\---

The poor Gemma goes through a series of urinary tract infections and now she has to face Bogum and Irene. I admit that the trip to the doctor’s was frightening and funny. Gemma’s pained face was adorable in a certain way and her concern about how a penis wouldn’t fit in her was even cuter. She’ll just have to get some practice from me. Joking aside, I’m nervous about meeting Bogum again. Our few meetings were enough to let me know that Bogum probably hates me as much as I hate him. At least we share something in common: hate for one another.

We’re having a meal together and Bogum is purposely pretending that I don’t even exist. Can’t he feel my glare? He is so annoying, but of course I’m going to make him irritated too. I notice that Gemma is being particularly stiff. Every one of her movement from the way she’s holding her knife and fork to the way she is sipping on wine is robotic. One thing is still the same though, her clumsiness.

“Oh Gem,” I mutter. “You’ve got some sauce here.”

I use my napkin to gently wipe away that spot beside her mouth. Before the cloth grazes her skin, I shift closer to her and instead decide to lick the sauce. Tasty.

“Augustin,” I inform the manager who has been waiting by the side to serve some more wine, “please give my compliments to Chef Leroy. His Bordelaise sauce is magnificent.”

Augustin who is the typical conservative religious fellow has some flustered cheeks. He usually has quite a loud voice and screams demands in French, yet today he can only mumble, “Thank you. I-I will pass your remarks to the chef. I am sure he would be more than delighted that you praised him.”

“Thank you,” I reply before turning my attention back to Gemma who is looking at my lobster. I’m guessing that she wants to give it a try, so I cut ta few slices for her and place them on her plate. “Try the Lobster Thermidor. It’s to die for here,” I suggest. “The cognac that they use at this restaurant is—“

“Gemma doesn’t like hard liquor,” Bogum cuts me off. Seriously, I would love to toss my knife at him if I could.

“Oh really? I remember she had no issues finishing four shots of vodka in a row,” I utter.

Bogum stares at Gemma in disbelief. I’m pretty sure that means that I’ve won. Bogum has no idea about Gemma’s “wild side” and by wild, Gemma really is super tame. She just has a good alcohol tolerance and occasionally likes to do more courageous things like bungee jumping or sky diving.

“Isn’t that right, Gemma?” I purposely add.

“Th-That was just one night,” Her voice begins to muffle. “And . . . it was because of a dare anyway.”

Bogum gets frustrated and grumbles, “A dare? I thought you hated playing truth or dare.”

To be frank, Gemma had always admitted that she hated truth or dare. There was only one rare time that we played the game and that was when Namjoon, Namjoon’s ex, Wheein, Gemma, and I were all meeting. Wheein was eager to dish out everyone’s dirty secrets, so she proposed playing that game. Namjoon was peer pressured by his ex to join. I was oblivious. I didn’t care the shallow secrets that would be revealed; they were all going to be sex-related and I was right. Unfortunately nothing interesting came out of Gemma, which was also a relief to me.

 “Well, well, people change,” she says in an attempt to change the subject. “So um . . . the lobster, I’ll try that right away. Cognac is good too. Let’s order some more alcohol.”

“Gemma, I don’t think it’s good to drink this early in the day,” Bogum warns her.

I’m surprised to see that he is actually glowering at her. He does see me as a threat then. That’s not good because that means there’s something fishy going on between him and Gemma. Not to mention, Bogum is already engaged to Irene. He shouldn’t be harbouring any romantic feelings toward Gemma.

Irene adds more to the fire by stating, “Gem Gem, I’m so surprised that you’d wanna drink too! My baby sis has changed so much! Is it because of Mr. Charming over here?”

I’m still not sure what Irene is up to; I don’t think she is as naïve as she sounds. She seems to be trying to stir up some drama. I’m even wondering whether she really loves Bogum because she is clearly flirting with me. I can feel Gemma’s tenseness as she clutches onto her cutlery tighter. To make her relax, I place my arm around her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t consider myself charming,” Hoseok answer for her. “But maybe . . . someone here does?” Gemma and I look at one another and I give her a coy grin. I know how much she dislikes public affection, but teasing her can be just so much fun.

“Being too charming can come off as being too cheesy,” Bogum chimes. “Gemma, I remember you saying that you hated guys who reminded you of Casa Nova.”

“But she always hates men who are boring, isn’t that right, Gem?” I argue.

Gemma isn’t saying anything. I can tell by the wrinkle around her nose that she is currently contemplating about what to say. She has no idea what to do and I’m going to just let her think a bit more.

Irene continues to ask, “So Hoseok, when do you plan on marrying my baby sis?”

“Any time is fine,” I reply. “It’s honestly just up to Gemma to figure out when.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet!” she compliments. “I had to keep telling stupid Bogum here that I wanted to settle down and eventually when he considered his timeline, he agreed.” Bogum ignores her comment and continues to eat. Irene focuses on Gemma and questions, “So Gem Gem, what’s your timeline then?”

Gemma stammers, “I-I-I haven’t really thought about—“

“You have such a wonderful man waiting for you,” Irene interrupts. “What are you waiting for?”

I can feel Gemma’s hesitation as she jolts in her seat. I let my arm slide down to wrap around her waist. “Why are you so interested all of a suddenly?” I inquire.

“She’s my baby sister. Of course, I want her happiness to come as soon as possible!” Irene explains.

I highly doubt that Irene really cares about Gemma’s happiness. I get the vibe that Irene wants to be sure that Gemma will never win her. Even marriage to Irene is like a competition. She can’t marry someone inferior to Gemma’s candidate. Irene definitely seems far more aggressive compared to Gemma, so knowing that I have to defend Gemma, I answer, “You don’t have to worry about her. The two of us will work out something together. There’s no rush.”

I kiss the top of Gemma’s forehead and then hold her hand. I interlock my fingers with hers and give them a nice squeeze. I want to let her know that there’s no pressure for a wedding. There’s no pressure for marriage or anything of that sort. Our relationship can just move along as it pleases. We don’t need anyone’s guidance and we don’t need to follow anyone’s pace. We’ll just be ourselves.

Gemma appears to understand my message because she finally smiles during this meal and quietly mouths a thank you. She also begins to eat normally for lunch and Irene has given up for now with the interrogation. Irene seems to know that she has lost for this round and Bogum gives up on his hostility for the time being.

To celebrate the end of a tense meal, I bring Gemma to the arcade. It has been a long time since I’ve gone to an arcade. However, I somehow feel like reliving my childhood or teenage years. I used to sneak out of the house to go to the arcade to shoot away zombies, demons, or attackers in hopes of relieving stress or my anger. The more zombies I shot, the more relieved I became. I used to imagine that each zombie was Jihan and every shot was actually just a punch in his stomach. After Jihan passed away, I never went back to this particular arcade by myself because there was . . . no need to get rid of stress that way. I just played with friends including Gemma for fun.

“This is a good thing to play to get your mind off of things,” I tell her as soon as we arrive to the machine that I used to play. I’m even stunned that this arcade still has this type of game.

“Oh goodness,” she murmurs while grabbing onto one of the guns. “How long has it been since we’ve played this type of game?”

I bend down to insert some coins and laugh. “What?” I taunt. “You’re still trying to forget how badly I whooped your ass the last time?”

“Can we not remind me of my dark ages?” she moans.

“Yes, the fact that you got lost in the game and ended up committing suicide. Mhm,” I remind her. “Meanwhile I had to do all the tough leg work and I think there was a crowd cheering me on. Maybe let’s do a throwback?”

She nudges me hard in the shoulder using the tip of the gun. “Yeah no,” she jeers.

“We’ll see about that.”

As I anticipated, I am winning this game. I don’t miss a shot, while Gemma is clearly suffering. She’s missing here and there and I have to cover for her. As usual, a crowd starts to gather behind us, but I ignore them. I am only aware of Gemma’s reactions. She’s hesitating as I see her gun hovering here and there on the screen. After a few seconds, I realize that she is eyeing the teenage girls who are . . . observing me. She’s nervous because of them? Does that mean that she’s jealous? I let a smile creep from my lips, yet I notice that her gun is slowly lowering.

I intentionally encourage her, “Yeah, Gem, if you don’t get your points up by at least 5,000, you’re going to owe me a meal.”

“I thought I was getting free lunches for life,” she scoffs.

“Maybe it’s time to change that.”

Like I thought, Gemma shouts, “Hey! Some things aren’t allowed to change.”

Gemma’s eagerness shines through and her score begins to sky rocket. I can feel her rage exploding through her shots. She’s acting like how I had been before. She has a target in mind or maybe a few. I can’t help but wonder who they are. Is it Irene? I think I’ve only seen Gemma become irritated due to Irene. Sure Gemma has had problems in the past with group project mates, yet she has never despised them. Those were momentary lapses of anger. As for Irene, I think the rage that comes from her has always been within Gemma, buried deep in her heart. What of Bogum? Would Gemma be mad at him at all? I hope not because that’d mean that he is still on her mind.

“See?” I utter. “You can do it if you put your mind to it.”

“I’m just mad, you know,” she actually confesses.

“You’re just frustrated,” I remark. That’s why I suggested the arcade. You can’t shoot a real person but at least in virtual reality, you can get rid of whatever is frustrating for you.”

“Aren’t you afraid that . . . virtual reality will become reality?” she all of a sudden asks.

I’m not sure how to answer her exactly because in reality, I did shoot Jihan. I did pull a trigger. Virtual reality did become reality. He was a zombie in my mind and then I shot him. Even though he provoked me, I still did it. I’m a coward though. I can’t . . . let her know now of this sin.

“Did you used to play this game often?” she probes.

“Started in middle school,” I clarify. “Not this game exactly, but shooting games in general.”

“This was stress relief?”

“I guess you could put it that way,” I mutter.

“I used to just yell in the elevators or do some karaoke by myself,” she confesses.

“Haha. I’d love to see that.”

“Which? The yelling or the karaoke?” she wonders.

“Both.”

I end the game because I don’t want her to become addicted to shooting things out of stress. In fact I don’t think I should have brought her here. We should have just yelled out stuff at the beach. I don’t want my unhealthy habits to rub off on her. We should end the night with something more lighthearted. As a result, I suggest karaoke. That’s close to yelling in an elevator right?

When we are settled at the karaoke room, Gemma has picked her songs. She is holding onto the microphone and she is very nervous that she coughs a few times. She even suggests, “I-I-I think we should sing together,” I propose.

“I’m not much of a singer, you know?” I utter. “I really prefer to listen. The stage is yours.”

“Y-Y-You’re not allowed to judge me, okay?” she orders. “I haven’t done this in a while, so I might be like tone deaf or I might be off the beat. I might not even remember—“

“Relax, Gem. I won’t bite . . . hard.”

Gemma is gripping the microphone with all her might and standing centre stage as if she were naked at the Orpheum. Her first song is “A Whole New World” and because I feel bad for her, I chant, “Show me the world, Gemma! I want you to show me the world.”

I see her agitating and looking away, so I take this chance to tease her. I march up to her and then whisper in her ear, “I’m waiting for you to show me the world.”

“St-St-Stop teasing me,” she stutters.

“That’s not part of the song.”

“You’re not playing fair.”

“You don’t have to mind me,” I snicker.

She’s trying her best to sing along to Aladdin’s part but is failing. I decide to cue the next song to save her from humiliation. It happens to be Carly Rae Jepsen’s song: “I really, really like you”. That song was overplayed on the radio and the chorus was obviously the song title. I know I’m going to enjoy this one because Gemma will have to confess that she likes me a lot. Why isn’t that fun? Since I have the remote, she can’t even cut the song.

Out of desperation, Gemma goes all out and even begins to dance. During the chorus, she belts the notes: “I really really really really really really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?”

She rushes to the couches and stops doing some funny jumps like a little gorilla. I’m a bit worried that she’ll fall off and crack her skull open, so I rush over and hug her body. As soon as I touch her skin, I mutter, “I want you too.”

I start kissing her chest. I’ve actually been meaning to kiss her during the day. She has been wearing an enticing V neck sweater that just draws my attention to her chest.

“I-I-I was just joking,” she argues.

I carefully set her on the couch so that she is lying on her back. I kiss her neck and then move my way up to her earlobes. Then I murmur, “It seemed kind of serious.”

“W-W-Well I was going by the lyrics!” she stutters and hides her face from me.

I’m pretty sure that she is embarrassed and is blushing. She isn’t moving or anything, so I’m beginning to feel that she is scared of me. She doesn’t want me to touch her at all. If she is just being shy, then I want her to come out of her shell. I’m . . . tired of waiting and at the same time I don’t want to do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable. It’s for the better that she initiates affection by herself. As a result, I settle on saying, “Let’s call it a night, okay?”

I move away from her as she sits up. “Wait . . . what?” she asks.

I chuckle at her reaction. She actually seems stunned that I’m not doing more. “What? You wanted more?”

“Usually you’re—“

“I already decided,” I tell her, “that I won’t be touching you first anymore. If you want some sort of contact, then you’ll have to initiate it.”

I begin to wear my jacket and am prepared to head out of the room. I don’t hear her rustling, so I look back at her and confirm, “You’re going to stay here by yourself?”

“No . . .”

It will probably take Gemma several days to understand what is going on, but that’s okay. I’ll give her some time to figure out what to do. It’ll be interesting to see what she’ll do next. Maybe I’m a bit cruel.

_“You’ve always had a cruel streak,” Jihan sliced his steak perfectly into cubes and told me just as I was walking away from the dining table. There were just the two of us eating that night. I had eaten dinner earlier to avoid having to see him. However, he still caught me walking away. “Admit it,” he proceeded to say. “You’re really just cold-blooded. You’re really happy when you see misery.”_

_“No. That’s not true,” I objected without even looking at him. “You’re the one that’s like that. You’re the one that’s messed up in the head.”_

_I heard the clinging of his knife against the plate. He guffawed, “Hahaha! If I’m messed up, then you are too.” He got up and walked to me. He lowered his head and placed his hand heavily on my shoulder. As he squeezed it so tightly that I winced out of pain, he claimed, “We’re brothers. We share the same . . . damned blood. You know our uncle? He’s not right in the brain either. Rumour has it that he killed his own wife and child. Do you want to know how he—“_

_“Stop it!” I urged. “Just stop it!”_

_“Hahaha! You’re afraid to hear the truth?” he cackled. “You’re such a coward.” He leaned closer to me and whispered, “She broke his heart so he strangled her. She was dead already, but he kept her on a chain and handcuffed her to himself. He even dressed her and tried to preserve her body for as long as he could. As for the kid . . .”_

_I retreated, muttering, “Why . . . why are you telling me all this?”_

_“Because I love you dearly, my brother,” he states in a cold, emotionless tone. “I want you to know the truth. We’re really all monsters. We’re ticking time bombs so . . . when will your time be up? Mm?”_

I tell myself a few times that I am not a monster. I am not a monster. I just want to be sure that Gemma feels comfortable with me. I want her to love me completely. But I’m sure that Jihan would laugh at my response.

He would tell me this.

_You’re just making her fall for the illusion of you. She’ll never you when she finds out what a monster you really are._

_Do you like my curse?_

 


	20. Your Wildest Fantasies

“What the hell is this?” I drop the invitation card onto the coffee table and shake my head several times. “Just what in the world—“

“I’m sure you’ve read—“ Hoseok tries to explain.

“Yes I did read it! That’s why I’m completely . . . shocked.” I lift the post card and point at the sketchy parts on the cover.

Let me just explain first how bizarre Hoseok’s invitation to his Halloween party is. Hoseok is wearing a burgundy silk bathrobe that is loosely tied with a black silk belt. He holds a martini glass in one hand and is leaning on the other for support. He is actually on a flamingo floating device in a swimming pool. He smiles arrogantly and there’s a white speech bubble that says: “Welcome to ‘Your Wildest Fantasies’!” In the swimming pool and around the area, you will notice that all of the items are sexual or part of someone’s dream wish list. There are lollipops, hot dogs, cucumbers, zucchinis, eggplants, orchids, and more. Then there are luxury brand clothing, bags, shoes, and more. Now do you understand my horror?

“I was inspired!” Hoseok cheerfully twiddles his fingers and reveals a giddy, childish grin.

“By what?” I shout.

Hoseok brings over an unwrapped Amazon box that makes my jaw drop as soon as I see the items wobble around in the container. I’ve been looking everywhere for that box and even told Wheein that the items never delivered. She had to go argue with the vendors that the shipment never arrived. All this time . . . Hoseok was the one that . . .

“Do you know all the trouble that Wheein—“

“I figured she’d have no problems dealing with them,” Hoseok winks and guffaws.

I don’t know what his issue is with Wheein, but I swear that they are always pranking each other in some awful way. Last time, Wheein put in tons of salt in his soup when Hoseok left for the washroom. Another time she gave Hoseok’s cell phone number to some gay guys and told them that Hoseok was into guys. Their gimmicks have been back and forth; I guess this time, it was Hoseok’s turn to mess with her.

Hoseok sits on the ground and begins showing off his haul as if he were in an unboxing video on Youtube. He grabs the pink dildo from the cardboard box and waves the dildo around like a glowstick you’re given at a fan concert. He remarks, “I have to thank her later for this inspiration.” Then he replaces this toy with the vibrator. He continues to wiggle it back and forth in his hand while uttering, “She really made me think about the theme of wildest fantasies. I mean look at all this diverse . . . Ah!” He drops the tube-like vibrator. I’m guessing he accidentally turned it on because the device is vibrating on the floor. As he hesitates to pick the vibrator up, he murmurs to himself, “Well I guess we better disinfect that.”

I blurt, “Can we just . . . not even—“

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Hoseok interrupts me and starts modelling with the bottle of lube in his hand. “Your wildest fantasies doesn’t just include mature stuff,” he reminds me. “Didn’t you see Namjoon in the card? You didn’t even—“

“That’s the worst ever!” I holler and show him the inside of the card. There’s Namjoon with a teddy bear helmet that’s in the texture of a plushie. His face has turned so round and it just doesn’t match his puffy lips and small eyes. That’s the picture we took of him when he lost against Hoseok for fantasy basketball. Namjoon made his promise not to show this to anyone.

“But I pixelated his eyes.” Hoseok reveals his droopy frown and rubs his fist against his cheek to imitate someone sobbing. “No one would be able to tell that it’s him.”

“Everyone can tell by his lips that it’s him! He’s the one with the pouty duck lips!” I lecture and toss the invitation card towards Hoseok who manages to catch it with his one healthy hand. That prick.

“And I have another surprise for you!” Hoseok announces before disappearing down the hallway. He comes back with several hangers in his hand and I can see that they are female costumes. “So we’ve got a few choices here: Street Fighter, vampire inspired, or twisted Alice in Wonderland. I personally think it’d be cool for you to be Alice in Wonderland.”

“Let’s just be normal,” I sigh and take my poison. “Vampire.”

“You’re the vampire hunter,” he says while passing me the outfit, “and I’m the vampire that you can’t get enough of.”

I’ll be wearing leather shorts along with a thick leather belt. He also gives me a tight black crop top and a long black leather jacket. I’m assuming that I’ll be wearing knee high boots as well.

“Do I also get a fake gun and a silver bullet?” I roll my eyes and comment.

“Maybe garlic,” he chuckles.

“And do I have to go to this event?” I grumble and set the costume by the couch. “It’s going to be just people getting drunk and dancing around. I’m too old for this.”

“It’ll be fun!” Hoseok enthusiastically remarks before heading back to his room for a few minutes. “I’ll be there too.”

“Yeah but you usually invite your other pals that are . . .”

Hoseok comes back to the living room about five minutes later and is clad in his vampire outfit. He has a white shirt, black trousers, a long cape, and a thin skinny velvet scarf around his neck.

“Snobby?” He finishes my sentence. “How do I look?”

“Yeah. That,” I groan before sinking myself into the couch. I turn on the TV out of boredom and tell him, “You look fine and I don’t even get why you hang out with them.”

“For business purposes,” he explains while taking a seat beside me. “I can’t detach myself from those things.”

“I just feel like you’re in some fraternity.” My eyes are glued to the boring soap opera that is playing right now. “It just doesn’t feel right and last time . . . I was dying of boredom that I went to feed the fish in your aquarium.”

Hoseok suggests, “Y-Y-You can invite Wheein then and whoever you want.”

“Really?” I finally look at him and smile. “Sid can come? That’s great!”

“Namjoon will be there too,” he adds. “I’ve also invited your sister and Bogum.”

As soon as I hear about that, I already feel my whole face collapse into a deep frown. “Why’d you invite them?” I bellow.

“Because it’s polite to invite your family members?”

Hoseok is ogling at me so innocently that I can’t even hit him with a pillow. Maybe he is just trying to get us to get along with each other? I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

“You know how awkward it is . . .” I state.

Letting out a cough, he announces, “And well . . . I want to introduce you to everyone officially as my fiancée.”

“On Halloween?” I switch the channel to some news station and ask.

“Yes. On Halloween.”

“Why do we have to announce this?” I wonder aloud. “I’d prefer things to be private . . . and I haven’t even met your parents yet. Isn’t it weird not to get their approval?”

“We don’t’ need their approval,” surprisingly he concludes.

“Why not?”

“They don’t care,” he states as a matter of fact. “Trust me.”

I turn to him and raise my voice, “But your family comes from—“

“It’s my grandfather that you should be concerned about,” he interjects. “He’s the one hat has the power.”

“And I’m not seeing him at all?”

“Not yet.”

“Because?”

Hoseok blurts that one question I still have trouble answering with all my heart: “Do you love me?”

“Wh-Why are you asking me this in broad daylight?” I question.

I know I shouldn’t be responding like that. I know that I’ve probably disappointed him or that I’m constantly disappointing him. However I just can’t lie about my feelings. I don’t really know or understand fully how I feel about him. I care about him a lot, but is that really being in love with him? I’m still sort of stuck.

“I’ll only introduce you to him when you are fully confident that you’re in love with me.”

Hoseok stares at me without even flinching, so I know that he’s is completely serious about his statement. I look back at him and try to hold the eye contact. Still I break away first and mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“Can you . . . not apologize to me?”

I hear his softened voice and immediately I can feel that I’ve hurt him again. Though Hoseok is very tall and is quite fit, his heart is fragile. I’ve always known that he was a real softie. He was always the one that cried first and the hardest whenever we watched some melodramatic, romantic, or tragic film. He’d try to hide his tears by holding them in and widening his eyes. In the end, his hand would cover them and the tears would trickle down his cheeks. I’ve always thought that he looked very beautiful when he cried. The first time I saw him behave like that, I really believed that he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I wanted to remove his hand so I could see his complete face.

Now . . . I’m scared to see his sad face. I don’t like being the one that hurts him because my heart . . . also shatters. Instead, I reach forward and hold his hand.

“I really appreciate how you’re always so patient with me,” I tell him and squeeze his hand. “I know I’m probably super annoying and slow. I sometimes wonder why you aren’t tired of me by now. I guess you can say that I’m insecure too?”

“You trust me right?” Hoseok asks.

I confess, “I think I . . . just don’t trust love in general. You can say that I’m sort of messed up and that I come with some heavy baggage?”

Hoseok lifts my hand and clings onto it harder. “You’re not messed up!” he objects. “I’m the messed up one.”

I giggle at his sudden confession. “Messed up? How?” I joke. “You’re probably more perverted. Hehe.”

In a very stern tone, he corrects me, “I’m serious here. I am messed up.”

I find myself looking at his quivering pupils and I notice the vein in his neck straining. He is serious. “How . . . are you messed up?” I pose.

“You . . . really want to know?” he verifies. As soon as I nod, he continues to say, “You’ll probably hate me or leave me if you know.”

My hand gently strokes his cheek as I tell him, “We promised to be truthful to each other and I promised that I’d wait until you are comfortable to tell me. It’s up to you.”

“Can you promise that . . . you won’t be scared of me if . . .”

I admit, “I don’t know what you’re going to tell me, so I can’t lie to you that I won’t be scared of you. I don’t want to give you false hope, but . . . I promise you that I will do my best to understand and believe in you.”

Hoseok gulps once and then backs away from me. He takes the corner seat in the couch and begins his story. It’s one that takes hours for him to explain because he starts from when he was born till present day. The more I hear the more disturbed I become. His voice often wavers during the moments when he describes Jihan’s interactions with him, particularly those times when Jihan tortures him. I’m starting to understand why he is afraid of some particular things like darkness. Ironically, Hoseok still sleeps with all his lights turned off. I’m not even sure now if he does that on purpose to remind him of his guilt.

“I . . . then . . . shot him,” Hoseok states with his eyes widened and his fingers curled against the edge of his seat. “I . . . killed him. I’m a murderer.”

“It was out of self-defense,” I calmly inform him. Even though I’m not an expert in criminal law, I still remember my basics. He was defending himself from Jihan. It was a legitimate defense that would exonerate him from the murder.

“How can you say that so lightly?” He glares at me while shouting loudly. “It was murder!”

“Then what do you want me to do?” I yell back. “Treat you like a killer? Be scared of you?”

Hoseok’s hands cling to the side of his head and his eyes wander to his knees. “I . . . don’t know,” he mumbles to himself. “Punish me somehow. I’ve wanted him dead so, so many times. It wasn’t out of self-defence. I really wanted to . . . I don’t deserve to be happy. I don’t . . .“

I walk towards him, kneel down, and bring his hands that are still stationed by his temple down to his knees. Cupping both of his hands, I say, “In law, it was self-defence and that’s how the world will see it. You don’t owe your older brother anything. Even if you did hate him, you never really wanted him to die right?” I feel his hands shaking, so I lean forward to embrace him. “From what I just heard, you endured a lot from him because you loved him and you wanted him to love you back. You wanted him to be like your brother and you did your best.” I feel his body twitching a bit and then I hear his sobbing. My arms wrap around him to comfort him. “You tried your best, so that’s all that matters,” I remind him while patting his back tenderly.

Hoseok doesn’t hug me back this time. Instead, he collapses in my arms like a tired baby. Some of his tears land by my neck and when I hear him sniffling and choking in between his tears, I feel like crying along with him. I let my arms coil around him harder and my eyes close as well. I understand his inner demons because I have similar ones towards Irene. I abhor how Irene treats me and often wish that she’d just vanish, yet if she really did disappear, I think my heart would break. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I were the one that caused her to die. I’d be so guilt ridden that I might even end my own life. Then I imagine Hoseok going through all that turmoil . . . by himself. How I wish I had known him back then. I wish that I could have been by his side to let him know that it’s okay. He didn’t do anything wrong. That was just an accident or at most his brother’s way of revenge or salvation.

“Hoseok . . . you know something?” I croak.

He backs away from me and with tears still in his eyes, he grumbles, “Why are you crying too?”

As he wipes my tears away, I tell him with a chuckle: “Because you’re crying and I’m a cry baby.”

“I don’t deserve your tears,” he murmurs.

“My tears aren’t that precious,” I respond. “I’m not a saint or an angel.”

He snickers, “I’m not either.”

“That’s why we’re together?” I joke.

“Maybe.”

The silence between us sinks in and then I remember the thought that I wanted to share with Hoseok. “You know. . . . maybe your brother was really doing you a favour if you think about it positively,” I utter.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

“He purposely provoked you to end his life so he’d never be able to hurt you again,” I respond. “Maybe he thought he was better off dead.”

“Or maybe he wanted to torment me forever,” Hoseok counters.

“I’m supposed to be the pessimistic one,” I remind him.

“Knowing him . . . I think he wanted to make me suffer for eternity,” he concludes.

I correct him, “He wanted you to remember him forever even if that meant hating him. You’ve always said that no one cared about him . . . so perhaps . . . this was the only way he could feel that someone really . . . loved him.”

Hoseok takes a moment to think about what I just said and then he finally agrees, “Maybe . . . maybe you’re right. I’d . . . like to think that . . . very much.”

I give him a good look and realize that he’s still dressed as a vampire. Here’s a vampire that’s crying his heart out. He’s too cute, so I stand up and lower my head to kiss the corner of his right eye, his nose, and then under his other eye.

“Thank you,” I say while staring down at his swollen eyes. “Thank you for telling me all this.” He is looking back at me as if I’m some saviour, so I giggle at his expression.

“What?” he ponders.

“You’re so adorable,” I admit.

Hoseok pulls me closer and sneaks his arm around my waist. “Does that mean you’re loving me more?” he teases. I make a derpy face where I bite onto half of my lower lip and squint my eyes and nose together. “You are seriously—“

“I’m thinking why I didn’t notice that about you before,” I explain.

“That?”

“Your adorableness.”

“B-B-Because you, Miss Fan,” Hoseok glowers at me while announcing, “always had eyes for someone else. Someone called Bogum.”

“Well it didn’t help that you were always a man whore.” I jog his memory. “A logical decision would have led me to like Bogum.”

“No! A logical one would have made you give up on someone that didn’t love you back.”

“But I have given up on him,” I tell him.

Hoseok pulls me back and questions, “W-Wait? What? You’ve given up on him? Since when?”

I shrug my shoulders, mumbling, “I don’t know when but . . . I don’t get that feeling of wanting . . . to date him anymore? I’ve sort of just accepted him as my sister’s fiancé.”

“So . . . so . . . all eyes are on me now?” His smile brightens. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this delighted before. It’s like a kid on Christmas Day.

I taunt, “Do I even have anyone else? Maybe . . . Namjoon. He’s actually—“

“Namjoon is really lame,” Hoseok immediately informs me. “He can’t even do his own laundry. He sucks at Math. He can’t multiply 12 x 13. He also has a really gross room and likes to break everything. He—“

“You’re so keen on making sure that I don’t like anyone huh?” I joke.

“I’ve always been a gunner, the A student who doesn’t even have to try and gets As,” he snickers.

I tug his cheek and warn him, “Don’t get so cocky now. You’ll have to try harder with me.”

“You make me try the hardest,” he professes so innocently. The way he is looking at me is making my heart tingle and melt. It’s as if my heart is made of chocolate and someone just held it for too long in his hand. “But you constantly give me a C or even fail me.”

I become bold and sit on top of him. I’m looking at him head on as I hug him like I would to a huge teddy bear. “C students don’t get hugs,” I say. Then I quietly whisper in his ear, “I think . . . I really . . . am falling for you.”

Hoseok shrills in my ear, “What? What? What? What did you say?”

“And I hate it,” I purposely add.

“H-Hate?”

“I hate falling for you,” I tell him.

“Why? Why? Why?” he shrieks like a teenage fan girl.

“Oh! This is hilarious. I should just keep doing this to you.” I laugh at his exaggerated expression.

“You’re too cruel,” he complains. “I never thought that you’d—“

I kiss him on the lips to shut his grumbling. I probably pulled a move from some movie or a drama, but it’s doing its job very well. Hoseok has relaxed and follows my lead for once. I’m the one that breaks away from the kiss to tell him, “I think we shouldn’t mess up your vampire costume.”

“So you wanted to continue on?” he questions.

I hop off the couch and pick up his stupid invitation card that’s lying on the floor. I fling it back and forth in my hand. “If that’s your wildest fantasy,” I utter. “But . . . since I have to face your other stupid friends, I’m punishing you for now.”

I’m honestly not looking forward to seeing his frat-like “friends”. A lot of them are sexist and self-centered jerks. A few are even racist. They’re all from elitist families that do their best not to pay taxes and to become even richer. I already know that I’m not going to enjoy this Halloween party of his. I’m not ready for their judgemental opinions and stares when they hear that Hoseok is engaged to me. They already find me to be of the “lower class” and though I am confident that I am stronger and smarter than them, when they gang up on me, I still feel uncomfortable and nervous. Hoseok has always been part of the accepted group, so he doesn’t understand what it feels like to be the outcast. At least Wheein will be beside me, I comfort myself. Wheein can sure kick some ass. I can rely on her if all else fails. I hope.

 


	21. Drama

Instead of being dressed like a vampire hunter, I’m in an onesie as an alligator at this Halloween party. Correct that. I was actually in a vampire hunter costume, the one that Hoseok showed me, but after greeting some guests in that costume, Hoseok managed to spill his glass of wine all over me. In the end, I was forced to change into the onesie. This costume just happened to be in his closet. How convenient. I’m starting to think that he didn’t accidentally spill things. He did that on purpose just to make sure that I looked as ugly as possible and to probably laugh at me.

All the other ladies are dressed so beautifully or sexily. Here I am . . . in an elementary student costume. It’s not even one of those cool ones. It’s like the last minute type where you and your whole family forgot about Halloween so you scrambled to the mall to get something shitty. The alligator onesie was exactly that and it’s super inconvenient to use the washroom. I have to take off everything. Why were onesies even invented in the first place?

What’s also not helping is that Wheein is late and Namjoon decided to join later. He said that it’d be more fun to party once everyone is not sober. Hoseok is busy greeting all his obnoxious frat boys who are bragging about their cars or blabbing about basketball, hockey, baseball, football, or soccer. God knows what’s popular among guys these days for sports. Sadly I’m left with the frat boys’ perfect-looking girlfriends. They either look like they just walked off of Victoria Secret’s runway or off of a movie set. I’m really the odd one out, so I wander off to the gardens.

Hoseok held this event at some suburb from the city. It’s some getaway cottage that his grandfather owns. Rich people and their cottages . . . I swear I’ve heard him mention beach cottage, camping cottage, lake cottage, and more. Does he not know the annoying part of cottages? The potential for no proper water sewage system so you might have to build your own or get the water tested for bacteria? Issues with trespassing or boundaries and fences? Huh? The only good thing about this cottage is that it’s surrounded by a lovely garden and a forest. All right, it is a bit creepy to be by myself at night, but it’s real just his back yard and there are some garden lights around the grass. Plus I hear little bugs making some noise. I’m not completely alone. I’m at the point where I’d rather be chilling with some insects than chatting with valley girls or frat guys.

I drink directly from the bottle of soju in my hand and hear a guy from behind me: “Hey whatcha doing all alone?”

I look back to see a completely unfamiliar face. He’s quite tall and I can’t deny that he is good looking. He has the figure of a model, not too buff and not too skinny, and his eyebrows are super prominent. However, he has that annoying slick back hair and cheesy smile that he thinks is suave.

I try to be polite and just answer, “I wanted some fresh air.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks and shows me his bottle of beer in his hand. “Two is always better than one right?”

“Not always,” I mumble while avoiding eye contact.

This pushy guy still comes towards me, so close that I can smell his heavy musky cologne. “You’re Hoseok’s new gal huh?” he remarks.

I take a step to my left and bark, “Who are you and what do you want?”

After taking a sip of his beer, he winks at me. “You’re feisty,” he snickers while pointing his index fingers and thumbs at me. “I like that in a woman.” Seeing that I’m ignoring him, he intentionally adds, “I wonder how long you’ll last with him.”

“What does that have to do with you?” I question.

“Us guys usually have a bet for Hoseok’s girlfriends,” he explains. “We bet how long he’ll be with them. Usually I get it right and the guys pay for drinks.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering, “And Hoseok knows about this betting?”

He shrugs his shoulders and answers, “I doubt he even cares about what we do now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Have you ever heard of people changing after high school?” he says.

“Yeah . . . some people want to turn into cooler people during college,” I mumble.

“Well,” he utters, “Hoseok changed. I can’t quite put my finger to it, but after one summer, something was just different about him.”

I’m thinking that he’s referring to the event with Jihan. That’s probably what triggered Hoseok to change.

“And?” I pretend to act dumb.

“And I’m quite interested in figuring out what made him change,” he says in a tone that brings goosebumps down my spine. I’m starting to think that this guy is up to no good.

“What do you actually want?” I dig straight to the heart of the matter.

The stranger leans forward, wraps his arm around my shoulder, and chuckles. “I just like uncovering dirt,” he states while staring intently into my pupils.

He is inching closer to me that I think he wants to kiss me. Just as I dodge my face, I hear another voice call from behind us: “Gemma . . .  I thought I’d find you here.”

I turn around to see Bogum who is dressed as Harry Potter. That’s probably the easiest for him to become because he already has a similar hair colour and fashion sense. He just needs a thunder bolt and some round glasses. Although I’m not that excited to see him, I’m relieved that he came to interrupt my conversation with this stranger.

“Is this your real boyfriend?” The stranger teases.

“Just who are you?” Bogum howls with his hands in his pockets.

“No one of your concern,” he smiles without a sense of genuineness and walks off back to the cottage. As I’m watching him leave, I realize that I really don’t like this guy. I don’t get why Hoseok is even friends with him. Have I seen Hoseok hang out with this guy before? I don’t quite recall.

“Where’s Irene?” I ask to try change the subject.

“She’s inside talking with some of the girls,” Bogum utters.

“I thought you didn’t like these type of events,” I counter.

I remember Bogum never attending big parties. Whenever I asked him to hang out at someone’s house party, he’d reject me. There was one Halloween party that I begged him to go along with me because Irene would also be there. That was the only time he showed up. He always thought Halloween was stupid and never dressed up. I guess Irene still influences him a lot. Makes sense. They’re getting married.

He comes forward to be just a few inches away from me and admits, “I still don’t like these events.”

“Well you’re still here,” I point out.

“You’re still here too,” he says.

I’m starting to dislike how Bogum is so blunt. Does he always have to win an argument and make me look like a fool in the process? I kind of understand what Wheein meant now about him. I’m not even sure how to continue the conversation, so I let the silence sink in. Surprising it’s Bogum who starts the confrontation.

“I don’t approve of the two of you,” he spells it out clearly and loudly.

“Why are you even saying that?” I wonder.

Since when did he even care about who I hung out with or who I dated? I don’t understand why he’s beginning to try to control this and that. I thought he didn’t have feelings for me.

“I’ve asked some friends of mine who work in law enforcement and also one of my good pals who is a prosecutor and they’ve all said that Hoseok is no good,” says Bogum.

“Because? He got into that DUI? We’ve been—“

“Not that,” he interrupts me.

“Then what?”

Shaking his head, he rambles, “I don’t know if you’re playing dumb with me. I hope you aren’t. Either way, he is trouble. His brother—“

“I know about that,” I cut him off this time. “He told me.”

“The whole thing?” Bogum ponders.

“It was self-defence. I don’t know what more you want to dig up,” I huff.

“And what if it wasn’t?”

“You have proof of that?” I howl and stand my ground.

Bogum’s voice lowers and he murmurs, “You know the coroners never found Jihan’s body. They found a severely burnt one where only the ashes remained.”

“Why are you telling all this to me?”

Holding onto my shoulders, he squeezes me hard. He states, “Because I don’t want you to be with the wrong person.”

“Then who should I be with? Huh?” My head turns to the side and I snicker. All these years he has never given a damn about me and now he wants to dictate who I’m with. What is this? Jealousy? Wheein was right. Bogum had always been selfish, so selfish.

“Someone better,” he replies.

His response makes me snap. “You . . . You always knew right?” I yell while pushing his arms away from me. I don’t want his sympathy and I don’t want his advice at all. I don’t want to see him.

“Knew?” he asks in a very confused tone.

I laugh at his fake act. The way he inflects that word tells me that he’s pretending that he has no idea. “You say I’m playing dumb, but you’re worse,” I point out. “You’ve always been playing dumb in front of me. Stop trying to act like a good guy! I’m so, so, so sick of it.”

“I’m not acting like the—“

“You always smile,” I interrupt him. “No matter what happens, you always smile. You’ve always been hiding behind that smile. I used to think that you were being understanding and polite, but now I know. You’re just fake! You’re just a damned coward who wants everyone to like him!”

By the time I’m done yelling at him, I find myself catching my breath. I can’t believe I was able to lash out on Bogum like that. I’ve never gotten mad in front of him because I wanted him to see me as the gentle, docile type. I didn’t want to show him my ugly side, but now I don’t care. I’m really sick of him preaching me or trying to act like he cares. He just always cared about himself first.

And he even has the guts to say this: “Is it wrong to want people to like you? Is it wrong to prefer to have friends more than enemies?”

“Did you ever consider my feelings?” I argue. “All this . . . I’ll always be by your side. I’m your brother. All that acting . . .”

“I wasn’t acting,” he corrects me. “Gemma, I’ve always—“

“Seen you as a sister,” I complete his sentence for him. “I get it. We all get it, but a real brother doesn’t try to ruin someone’s happiness. A real brother doesn’t . . . give false hope.” 

“Look Gemma,” Bogum continues to explain. “I’m trying to make sure that you’ll be happy. I’m—“

“Well I was happy until you dropped a bomb on me,” I blurt. “Hoseok and I are finally—“

As I’m walking back to the cottage, Bogum grabs onto my wrist. I can’t believe he’s pulling that move from those dramas. Doesn’t he get that I want to leave? Unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to get away from him and he ends up hugging me. I’m pounding on his chest to let him know that I want out, yet he cages me.

“You’re important to me, you know?” Bogum croaks, nearly choking on his own words. “I’d do anything to make you happy. I . . .”

He cups my cheeks and leans forward to kiss me. Out of desperation, I kick Bogum in the crotch and run off in cold sweat. When I’m jogging up the deck and to the back door of the cottage, Hoseok happens to be waiting with a beer in his hand. Did he see, I wonder. Did he see what happened? Should I tell him?

Hoseok greets me with a courteous smile and raises his bottle of beer, “I’ve been looking for you! Who knew you’d show up like that? What are you? A fairy?”

“Real funny,” I jeer before adding. “I was just relaxing over there.”

“With . . . Bogum?” Hoseok interrogates. I glance back to find Bogum walking in our direction. Immediately, I hide behind Hoseok and cling onto his arm. “What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks. “Did he do something to you?”

Hoseok’s tone sounds like he would kill Bogum if he knew about the truth. As a result, I lie a bit, “We just got into an argument. It’s nothing big. It’s something really stupid.”

“Are you sure?” Hoseok confirms.

“H-H-He just doesn’t like us together,” I answer.

Hoseok cackles, “I figured.” He holds onto my hand and then leads me back into the cottage. “Come on. Let’s do a formal introduction for you now. My friends have been dying to meet you.”

“Do we have to?” I question while opening the door to the kitchen. “I’m horrible with network sessions.”

“It’s not networking,” he corrects me as we continue to walk past the kitchen and down the hallway to the living room. “They’re just curious. That’s all. You can let me do all the talking. Just sit back and be yourself. They’ll love you!”

Love me . . .  I wonder how true that statement is because by the time we arrive at the living room, the whole crowd turns their attention to me. All of them looking so confident, well-established, handsome or beautiful. It’s like high school all over again and I’m that nerd stuck with all the popular people. I can feel my stomach churning all this acid and my hands are getting clammy. Hoseok places his arm around me for support, but I just feel his weight. I just want to run away.

Even worse, I notice the stranger who had spoken to me in the backyard among the crowd. One of his buddies comes racing towards me and announces, “So you’re the Gemma? The Gemma Fan?”

“Y-Y-Yes,” I stammer. This man is around Hoseok’s height and is very fit. I can still see his muscles coming out from his pirate costume.

“I’m Park Chanyeol!” he tells me and shakes my hand way too many times. “Nice to meet you!”

“Ah,” another guy with rectangular glasses and black short hair follows along and says, “so you’re the one that’s preoccupying him.” This guy is far more slender than Hoseok and Chanyeol. He’s tall and lanky and clearly has a cold attitude which kind of reminds me of Oh Sehun.

“Don’t put it that way, Sehun!” The stranger from the backyard argues. He makes his way to me and then gives me a kiss on my hand like a gentleman would in the olden days. “Pleased to be at your service. I’m Park Hyungsik.”

I’m getting this odd feeling like I’m being surrounded by a troupe of popular guys and the women at this party are definitely not happy. They’re probably the guys’ love interests? Actually I’m not sure how Hoseok set up his invitation list. He said he invited all of the people that were of use to him in his business. I don’t see older faces within this costume party. I suppose he only invited their children and these people are his closest friends. If they were close to him, then why hadn’t I met them before?

Hoseok seems to sense my confusion, so he utters, “We’ve known each other since pre-school. We all went to the same schools besides college.”

“That’s only because Hyungsik chose a different college to experience something new and Ryan only has brawns and has no brains,” Cedric pushes his glasses up with his middle finger while explaining.

“Hey!” Chanyeol grumbles. “I got a full scholarship from rowing! And that college is ranked high too!”

Sehun harshly adds, “If it hadn’t been your parents’ generous donation—“

“Now, now, we all know you’re the smartest out of us, Sehun.” Hyungsik winks and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. His arm swings around Sehun as Hyungsik reminds him, “but Hoseok still beat you for the SATs.”

Sehun stammers and rolls his shoulders back. “I-I-I had a bad stomach ache that day and—“

“All right. All right,” Hoseok interjects. “Let’s not start some stupid fight. Chanyeol earned that scholarship fair and square and let’s not forget that he did win an Olympic gold medal.”

“Exactly!” Chanyeol snaps his fingers right after Hoseok’s statement.

Hyungsik changes the topic and flashes a creepy smile. It’s the one that sincerely reminds me of the Joker. “So how did you guys meet?”

“Well before we dive into details,” Hoseok answers, “let me just make my announcement.” Chanyeol hands Hoseok a glass of champagne. In exchange, Hoseok gives him his beer. “Everyone,” Hoseok lifts the glass in his hand and announces, “I’d like to share some good news with you. I’ve always thought you were good friends of mine so I wanted you to be the first to know that Gemma and I are engaged!”

He looks down at me, which forces me to nod like a stiff robot. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bogum frowning at me. Irene who is beside Bogum has an expressionless face. I’m starting to feel tense because there is a lot of cheering and people who come up to us to give us their best wishes. There’s a lot of small talk between Hoseok and these guests and all I can do is force myself to smile. I totally feel out of place as I hear these people’s family background. So and so is the daughter of this conglomerate’s president. This other person is the son of the managing partner of a huge law firm. Another is related to this politician.

The list goes on and on. I’m definitely at the bottom of the food chain—a nobody. I don’t feel comfortable sharing my family background. We’re normal beings and my family isn’t perfect at all. Sure I have a decent job, but it’s nothing special compared to these people. I almost feel ashamed that I’m beside Hoseok who is shining so brightly beside me. At one point, I excuse myself to the washroom. I want to wash my face or at least my hands to feel a bit refreshed. So much happened this night and I really need to be by myself to understand everything.

Bogum . . . nearly kissed me. That new Hyungsik character who is bad news. Bogum telling me that Hoseok’s brother’s body was never found. I want to believe that Hoseok told me the whole story, but my job has made me critical about everything. I can spot issues too easily and I also don’t think Bogum would intentionally fabricate that fact. Why does everything seem like a mess? I thought after Hoseok told me about his past, everything would be okay. There wouldn’t be any more drama. The past should be laid to rest. We’re living in the present anyway.

I’m about to enter the restroom but Hyungsik stops the door from opening fully. “You’re not very used to our society huh?” he remarks. “If you don’t get used to it, it’ll be tough for you guys to last. You see . . . Hoseok belongs here and—“

“I know you don’t like me,” I profess and glare at him, “but you don’t have to be this rude and say it to my face.”

“I’m doing you a favour, little bunny,” Hyungsik reveals another fake smile and informs me. “He’s not as perfect as he seems.”

“Aren’t you one of his close friends?” I pose. “Shouldn’t you not be badmouthing him?”

“And to correct your statement from before,” he backtracks and notifies me, “I quite like you as a person and I get the feeling that you’re the type that likes knowing the truth.”

“What do you really want from me?” I demand.

“Leaning against the closed washroom door, Hyungsik crosses his arms and then his legs. “It’s really simple,” he says. “I want you to figure out what really happened to Jihan. I don’t buy that he got into an accident or that he went abroad to study.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

Hyungsik’s scary smile creeps from his lips and his eyes nearly close together. “You work at this big law firm right? My dad uses your firm’s services. Perhaps we can cut that off and well, I can inform them that you weren’t doing your job,” Hyungsik threatens. “There’s also Hoseok’s DUI incident that could be publicized and I can also get women to tell the media about their stories of Hoseok using them. What else? Maybe a history of their family bribing—“

“Hyungsik,” Hoseok calls out in the middle of the hallway that leads to the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“Oh I was just showing her way to the washroom! You know how big this whole place is,” Hyungsik lies easily, but I can tell that Hoseok doesn’t believe in him.

“I don’t think that needs to involve you accompanying her,” Hoseok retorts.

“Haha! You’re awfully protective of her, aren’t you?”

Hoseok barks, “And you’re surprisingly curious about her.”

“Am I sensing jealousy, Hoseok?” Hyungsik chuckles and then sets his hands on my shoulders from behind me. I can see the vein on Hoseok’s neck straining and his fist clenching. “Oh? Hit a sensitive spot?” Hyungsik continues to taunt before exploding in laughter. “Oh Hoseok, I’ve never seen you act this way! It’s so funny and adorable! This will be fun. This will be very fun.” Hyungsik whispers in my ear before pushing me forward, “Well I’ll let you go this time . . . for now. See you later . . . alligator.”

I quicken my pace and walk towards Hoseok. My heart is beating out of anxiety. I get the feeling that Hyungsik will be coming after me. I don’t understand his obsession with uncovering Jihan’s incident. Hyungsik is supposed to be close to Hoseok, yet the two feel more like nemeses. As Hoseok and I walk back to the living room, Hoseok doesn’t say a word. He seems too serious now. Something is definitely wrong and I wonder if he’ll tell me.

I call out, “Hoseok, I—“

“If Hyungsik ever shows up anywhere in your life, tell me,” he states. “He’s nothing but trouble.”

“Okay, but I . . . just have one question.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell me . . . all of the truth?”

“You mean—“

“About Jihan. As in . . . are you still hiding something from me?” I ask.

Hoseok doesn’t crack a joke. He doesn’t laugh it off. He doesn’t react at all and simply stays silent. I know the answer then. He is definitely hiding something else from me. I really hate to admit that I might have to think about what Bogum said.

Because Hoseok doesn’t say anything, I declare, “I . . . I’m not sitting back this time and waiting for you to tell me everything because my instinct says that you’ll never tell me.”

Hoseok finally speaks up, “Can’t . . . we just  . . . live as is? Aren’t we happy now?”

I shake my head, admitting, “I’m sorry, Hoseok. I just . . . can’t turn a blind eye to something that’ll bother me. You know me. Even if the truth will hurt, I still . . . want to know.”

“Nothing good will come out of this. I’ve already told you enough.” Hoseok forewarns me. “You know that right?”

I giggle. “This isn’t like you. You’re supposed to be full of hope, you know?”

In an almost inaudible tone, he mumbles, “I’ve never had hope.”

Namjoon appears and rushes to greet Hoseok. Coincidently, Wheein shows up behind Namjoon. She grimaces at me and wonders, “Gem, what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Ah . . . it’s nothing,” I lie. “I’m probably just tired.”

“That’s true. You’ve always hated these type of big parties,” Wheein concurs.

I find myself pressured to smile to mask away my concerns. I don’t know. I really don’t know what I should do. Am I being selfish for wanting to know the truth? I feel like Hoseok will inevitably suffer far more than me and he seems to already know that there won’t be any good results coming out of this. I can’t stand being ignorant. I need to know about Hoseok’s past, especially when we’re engaged and we might get married.

I’m curious, panicky, concerned, and shocked. All these emotions are motivating me to unearth the truth even if we’ll get hurt in the process. Isn’t the road to recovery a bit bumpy in the first place? I feel like Hoseok’s usual optimism is rubbing off on me. I want to hope for the best. We’ll . . . make it through somehow.


	22. Intervention

I’ve really hit a road block. I try to Google about Jihan but nothing significant shows up. I don’t want to speak to Hoseok’s frat friends from high school. Hyungsik already gives me the creeps. I’ve tried calling Namjoon and asking him for more details. Namjoon refused to say more and gives me the same answer as before: Hoseok will open up when he is comfortable and that I should be patient. Hoseok knows that I’m digging for information, yet he won’t cooperate. He even takes more business trips. I can’t seem to figure out who his high school classmates were because both Namjoon and Hoseok won’t show me their yearbooks.

Out of desperation, I think of seeking Wheein’s help. I know that she is close with the prosecution section of the government. However I’m worried that her mouth will run loose and Hoseok’s secrets will surface to the public somehow. In the end, there’s only Bogum. Although I am still irritated that he tried to kiss me when he is engaged to Irene, I have no other choice but to meet him. He has some answers and I need them badly.

We meet at a local Italian restaurant. I order some tomato based pasta whose name I butcher. I’ve never been very good at pronouncing Italian words, so I usually just point to the menu. Bogum, on the other hand, orders some fancy big pizza and doesn’t even offer to share a slice with me. Jerk.

“I’m assuming you know more than what you’re telling me,” I utter. “What happened to the case?”

“If I tell you,” Bogum utters while slicing his pizza, “you’ll break up with him?”

“You’re threatening me?” I wonder. “Since when did you even do that? How low are you going to go?”

With his eyes glued to his plate, he tells me in a solemn tone, “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you guys aren’t together.”

“Why?” I bellow. “What is it to you? Why can’t you just leave me alone? You left me alone all these years and now you’re coming back and trying to dictate my life. Who do you think you are?”

“This is for your own good,” he remarks. “You’re not going to be safe around him.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” I argue. “It was self—“

“He’s a murderer,” Bogum informs me. “He did it once. Who is to say that he won’t do it again?”

“And why is to say that he would definitely do it?” I counter.

“You’re siding with a killer? Gemma—“

“I don’t like how you’re making some conclusion without even leading any evidence at all,” I interrupt and place my fork on my plate. “It’s innocent until proven guilty.”

All of a sudden, Bogum reaches into his briefcase and hands me a bulging yellow folder. “You ask for evidence?” he snickers. “Here’s your evidence. You’re lucky that I managed to pull many, many strings. Do you even know . . .”

I tune him out as I flip through the documents in the folder. I’m skimming through the pages and what I’m reading is making my hand tremble.

Neighbours reported gun fires and then a fire ensues. Arrived at the scene. No body is recovered because it is far too severely burnt. The other boy (Hoseok) is rushed to the hospital before we arrive. Alleged severe injuries to face and body. Loss of consciousness leads to delayed questioning.

Family members testify that Jihan (the alleged deceased) always hated Hoseok (victim). The family did not see anything but they believe Jihan shot Hoseok. Hoseok later recounts how Jihan abused him.

“Don’t you find the body part to be . . . odd?” Bogum questions. “As well as the fact that Hoseok was rushed to the hospital before the cops even arrived?”

“It is . . . weird,” I agree. “He . . . didn’t tell me this.”

“He also didn’t tell you that he took a year off from school?” Bogum confirms. I shake my head, leading to Bogum to conclude, “I also find it highly suspicious that the family maintains to the media that Jihan is studying abroad and they wanted to close this investigation immediately. They didn’t seem to be mourning for Jihan’s death.”

“What . . . are you suspecting?” I ponder.

“I think Hoseok really murdered Jihan,” Bogum replies. “You’re not safe around him. You shouldn’t be living with him. You can stay at my place if—“

“You’re engaged to Irene!” I cut him off. “What are you even suggesting? Are you out of my mind?”

Bogum’s cutlery clinks against his plate as he tosses them aside. “Yes,” he verifies. “I am out of my mind! I don’t like you being around another guy, especially someone as dangerous as him. I’m constantly worried that you’re going to be hurt. I can’t stand seeing you all—“

“Why . . .” I heave a long, heavy sigh. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

Staring at me hopelessly, Bogum answers, “Because . . . I realized that . . . I’m . . . actually in love with you. All these years I just kept denying that you—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” I interrupt and toss my napkin on the table. “This dinner is finished. I appreciate that you showed me this information, but other than that . . . there’s nothing more I want to say.”

As I stand up and proceed to leave the restaurant, Bogum follows me. We’re causing a huge scene in the restaurant and I really just want to crawl under a table. He snatches my wrist and demands, “How can you just change your feelings so easily huh? What did he do to you? Seduce you? Made you become—“

I slap him with my other hand which causes him to let go of me. “He never, ever laid a hand on me without my consent! Don’t accuse him of anything!” I howl and then storm off in a hurry.

I can’t believe that Bogum thought that I agreed to be with Hoseok because I got addicted to having sex with him. I cannot believe that Bogum thought I was that shallow. I don’t even know why I loved Bogum now. Was it because I could only see his good sides? I purposely forgot about how shallow he was. He was never interested in me when I was that geeky, scrawny girl who wore baggy clothes and followed him around. He only became interested in me now because I’m dating someone who is part of the “in” group. God, why was I so stupid? Why couldn’t I even tell that Bogum was this . . . annoying?

Now I’m missing Hoseok very badly. I want to hug him and tell him that I really don’t care about his past. Even if he did kill Jihan, I don’t believe that Hoseok did it out of amusement. Hoseok probably had no choice. I’m about to turn the corner but then I feel someone cover my mouth. I’m struggling to breathe and kicking my feet, yet I lose in the end.

All I see is darkness.

\---------

I wake up feeling very constricted and very tense. I don’t know what has happened. As I wiggle around, I realize that my hands are tied behind my back and my legs are also tied to the chair. There’s tape around my mouth and my eyes are blind folded until I hear the sound of snapping fingers.

My blind fold is removed by some strangers dressed in black. I look ahead in this dreary abandoned warehouse and there’s Hyungsik standing about a feet away from me. As he strolls towards me, he utters, “Well . . . well . . . well . . . I said we’d see each other again right? And I kept my promise!”

“What the hell do you want?” I bark.

He lifts my chin brutally, likely bruising my jaw. “Did no one teach you any manners, Ms. Gemma Fan?” he dictates. “I really don’t want to hurt you, you know?”

“If you didn’t want to hurt me, then you wouldn’t put me in this position,” I inform him.

“You’re so feisty!” His frightening wide smile reveals as he cracks his knuckles. “I kind of . . .” He tugs my hair back, causing me to groan. “I kind of like that.”

“You’re . . . crazy,” I utter.

“Ah no,” he corrects me and pulls my hair even further back. “I’m not crazy. I just want to know something.”

“Which is?”

“You see . . . Hoseok will never tell me this secret of his.”

“Why are you so curious about it?”

“Why aren’t you curious?” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “You know . . . you and I . . . share the same sort of look.”

“What . . . look?” I shout.

“We’re the sort that wants to know about everything. We want to get to the bottom of things,” he replies. “That’s probably why we’re both drawn to Hoseok. He’s such a mystery, isn’t he?”

I demand, “What do you want from him?”

“I’ve watched him for a long, long time, Gemma,” he tells me with his arms crossed over each other. “I’ve known him since we were in pre-school,” he starts saying. His eyes are staring off to space, but they make me shudder. I can feel the fire burning within them as he continues to explain, “We used to be so close, so, so close and then one day . . . he disappeared and after a year of being gone, we finally met. And what did he do? He pushed me away!”

“And then?”

“And then . . . for several years he played around and that was fine because I knew none of them had his heart,” he sputters, “but . . . You!” He comes towards me now and grasps my neck tightly with both of his hands. I can almost feel my trachea being squeezed together as I struggle for air. “You . . . bewitched him! He never used to smile like that at me!”

Hyungsik’s hands press harder until I’m groaning to let him know that I need a breath. Just when I think I might actually faint, a loud, crisp voice orders, “Let her go Hyungsik!”

“Ah . . .” Hyungsik releases me and turns to face Hoseok. Hyungsik starts clapping as Hoseok approaches him. “I knew you’d be here. I knew she’d get you here.”

Hoseok lifts Hyungsik up by grabbing onto his collared shirt. “What the hell did you do to her?” Hoseok questions.

Breaking a smile, Hyungsik responds, “Don’t sweat it. She’s totally fine. I didn’t even lay a scar on her, but if you keep being rude, I just might—“

“Hyungsik . . . what do you want?” Hoseok cuts him off.

“You know exactly what I want.”

“No I don’t.”

“Hoseok,” Hyungsik strokes Hoseok’s chest and reveals another sly grin. “We’ve always loved each other and then one day . . .  you just changed. You cast me aside. You changed completely like a . . . different person . . . You can’t hide it . . . Jihan.”

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok roars.

“Hoseok said if he ever died, it’d be because of you,” Hyungsik snickers. “We all know how you bullied him and how you tortured him. You’re a monster, Jihan! You always—“

“Shut up!” Hoseok shrieks. “You’re wrong! I’m not Jihan. I’m—“

“You . . . You have that scar on your waist right?”

Hoseok doesn’t move or say another word. Hyungsik laughs proudly and arrogantly that the whole warehouse is filled with his voice. He snaps his fingers and one of his body guards comes towards him and passes him a gun. Hyungsik loads the gun and I hear a little click. I feel the gun press against the side of my head and I gulp.

“You can do anything to me, but not to her,” Hoseok answers out of instinct.

Hyungsik shakes his head, uttering, “No. We play by my rules. Now, enlighten me . . . or she goes.”


	23. In My Eyes

To tell you the truth, my existence was never meant to be in the first place. My biological father was a genius manic. He was brilliant for his writing and calligraphy, yet his mind was very, very troubled. It was as if he was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. On his good days, he would be loving and doting and shower me with love. On his bad days, he would beat me until I forgot what day it was or finding ways to make me disappear. I was the kid that always wore long sleeves and pants until I was six years old. No matter how hot it was, I’d never go out in t-shirts because I couldn’t let anyone know the truth. Our family name had something attached to it—a sort of reputation that could never be tainted.

To the world, they all thought that my father was an angel—the philanthropist and the talented artist. My grandfather also brainwashed himself into believing that my father was normal. As for my mother, she was also in denial. She was from a good family and married my father out of duty. Her duty was just to provide an heir and she did. After that, she wanted nothing to do with the family and tried to leave on multiple occasions. Because my father wanted to maintain his good image, he would always bring her back and in the end, he trapped her in a cage. She couldn’t take the imprisonment anymore, so she committed suicide. Since the happy story was coming to an end, my father was determined to get rid of everything, including me. A massive fire resulted, yet I was miraculously saved.

I woke up in the hospital bed to see my grandfather and my uncle and aunt. Since they didn’t have a child, they decided to adopt me. No one doubted that I wasn’t their child by blood as my uncle and my father were identical twins. I just happened to look like my biological father. For three years, I was treated like a King and even had an older sister who was like a Queen. I was so happy that people finally cared about me, yet . . . my happiness ended as quickly as it arrived. Hoseok was born and he was perfect. Because he reminded everyone of our grandmother’s good looks, he was loved by all. He was also naturally intelligent and sociable. I was the complete opposite of him; if he were the sun, then I was the moon. I was constantly reminded of my short comings and whenever I made a mistake, my grandfather would reference my father.

_You’re just like your father._

_Like father like son._

_You’re going to be a monster. You are one._

I tried my best to be the good brother that everyone wanted me to be. I tried to get along with Hoseok, but whenever I grew closer to him, my grandfather would hit me and remind me to back off. The time when I almost accepted Hoseok’s toy, my grandfather gave me the worst beating ever. I still have the scar along my waist from the leather belt that hit me too many times. According to my grandfather, I was a bad influence and had to stay away from Hoseok. If I still wanted to be able to stay in this family, I would have to live by his rules.

The rules were simple. First, I could never outshine Hoseok. Second, I could never be close to him. Third, though I was allowed to live under this roof and have an artificial last name stuck to me, I would never be allowed to inherit anything. Fourth, Hoseok could never find out that I was not his real brother or about my crazy biological father. Finally, Hoseok had to despise me. If I followed these rules, then what was guaranteed were these three things: a full stomach, a bed to sleep on, and an education.

I said so many things I had never meant. I said them so that he would not get close to me. I had to make him hate me so that he and I would both be safe. I was already beginning to feel like a monster after the constant reminders of what my father had done from my grandfather. Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to be one . . . after all, blood ran deeply in me. 

_Why is life so unfair? You never need to work for anything yet you get everything._

_Who do you think you are? I’m the older brother here._

_Wipe that smirk off of your face._

_I don’t need your fucking pity. You scum!_

_You’re nothing but a pretty face. Spit. You hear me? Nothing._

_You don’t deserve anyone’s attention. You don’t belong here. Get out!_

Hoseok was very good at acting kind. I wanted to pretend that he was a good younger brother to me, but he rejoiced in making me look bad. I knew because when I received my punishment, he would smirk. If he did something wrong, he would pin the blame on me. Everyone thought that he was the victim while I was the bully. After all, I was the one making those chiding remarks. I couldn’t take it one day when he came home to find his beloved dog, Gaston, dead. I promise that I never killed the dog. I helped look after the dog whenever I could in my own secret way. Hoseok had specifically told me to feed the dog these treats and I listened to him.

Over time, he became slyer and was great at acting like he cared about people. Hoseok surrounded himself with shallow people and was too close to a dangerous boy called Hyungsik who had connections with mobs. My grandfather was happier about this progress. He wanted Hoseok to take over his empire and to do that, he needed someone tricky and smart. Hoseok couldn’t have a soft heart. I was tasked with making sure that Hoseok’s heart hardened and grew cold.

I stole everything from him from his girlfriend to his friends. I was there to make his life suffer, but all the harm that I did to him hurt me just as much. I spent the nights hating myself to sleep and hoping that I could die instead. I never wanted to hurt him. I always wanted to be a good brother, but I wasn’t allowed to play that role. As time went by, Hoseok had turned into a monster. He would party excessively and even began to experiment with drugs. He’d cheat his way out of something and laughed it away because he had managed to trick someone. He was no longer the sweet boy who couldn’t even hurt an ant. He was starting to abuse his power for the wrong reasons. He enjoyed seeing people suffer and seeing Hoseok become like that . . . made me die inside.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I had helped to destroy Hoseok. I wanted out and I realized that there was no way to get out of this unless one of us disappeared. I should be the one gone, yet somehow the tables turned. Hoseok was the one who suggested a game on my 23rd birthday. He was only 17 years old.

_“Let’s play a game, Jihan. If you shoot me, then you win. Come on, Jihan,” Hoseok urged. “I know how much you want to shoot me. You hate me right? You hate how I’ve ruined your life huh?”_

_I shouted, “You’re out of your mind. What are you—“_

_“Shoot me or I’ll shoot you.”_

_“No, I’m not going to shoot—“_

_Bang._

_He closed his eyes and ended up hitting my shoulder, yet I still didn’t want to hurt him. “Get up, you fucking scum!” Hoseok yelled and kicked me right where I was bleeding. As I glared at him with all of this rage, he purposely bellowed, “I’m going to shoot you in the face next! Let’s see how pretty you’ll—“_

_I pointed my gun at myself and there was a click. I was ready to shoot myself._

_“Don’t do it!” He shouted and shot my thigh, leaving me to slump to the ground. “You’ve always hated me right?” Hoseok confirmed. “It was all a game to you right? Making fun of me? Torturing me?”_

_“That’s not true,” I finally confessed with tears streaming down my eyes. “I might have envied you, but I never hated you. I never once felt that way. I always . . . felt guilty because I’m the one that created this monster. You’re the one that’s supposed to hate me.”_

_“But I don’t hate you,” he said while directing the gun to the side of his temple. “It’s all my fault that you have to be this way and I also . . . know I’m becoming a monster. It’s time to end this game.”_

_“No! No! That’s not—“_

_“Good-bye, Jihan,” he stated. “This is my gift to you. Bye, my brother.”_

Bang.

Hoseok killed himself like that and before the police arrived, my grandfather was there. He slapped me first and spat on me. He kicked me so many times that I nearly blacked out. He called me a murderer and a killer. He told me that no one would ever love me after all. After all the anger dissipated from him, he pretended as if nothing had happened and ordered that I become Hoseok. My grandfather made sure that everything was taken care of. A fire occurred and Hoseok’s body disappeared. The world couldn’t know about this tragedy. Jihan could go. Hoseok could not. There was never a place for Jihan. He never should have existed and so . . . I was reconstructed as Hoseok.

With a new face, I took a year off from high school to learn how to act like Hoseok. No one besides my aunt, uncle, Tiffany, and my grandfather knew about this swap. In everyone’s minds, Jihan had unfortunately passed away from an accident or went off to study abroad.  At first, I’d remind myself every day that I was now Hoseok. I hated looking at the mirrors because there was a fake face in front of me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t feel much of a purpose in life. I just had to be an actor for my whole life. I’d just live as Hoseok and complete my duties for work.

As Hoseok, I maintained his friendship with his frat boys whom I never liked. Grandfather made sure that I stayed friends with them because they were important business allies and ties. As I mentioned before, I always knew that Hoseok was close to Hyungsik and was nearly positive that they were lovers. Hyungsik had always been trailing behind Hoseok since they were kids. However, I couldn’t act like I was in love with Hyungsik. I just couldn’t even though I knew that once I pushed him away, he would realize the change and suspect something.

But then . . . I met Gemma. Around her, I could actually be myself. I could forget about Hoseok, but it has been so long that I’ve been him that I wonder . . . are we different now? Who am I exactly? I’ve been thinking in his shoes for so long and reading his diary again and again that I know him inside and out. He is a part of me, so who am I? The more I think, the more I hate myself. The more I hate myself, the more I act like everything is okay. I smile to mask away the pain. I laugh to pretend that I don’t care about anything. I can be nonchalant because I’m choosing to be ignorant. I can be Hoseok. I am him. He wasn’t so evil . . . I wished.

\---

After hearing Hoseok’s . . . no . . . Jihan’s story, I am in utter disbelief. There are so many mixed emotions running through me. His story is too crazy. How can that even be real? This only happens in dramas. What is this nightmare? Who have I been . . . knowing? Seeing? Dating? Loving? But then I see him kneeling on the ground, covering his face, and sobbing . . . and I know that this horror has been real.

No wonder Namjoon wouldn’t tell me this story. No wonder Bogum told me to stay away from “Hoseok”. All this time that I’m digesting these thoughts, Hyungsik is laughing and laughing while applauding.

“See?” Hyungsik hollers. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t Hoseok.”

“Kill me,” Jihan begs with his shielded face. “Kill me.”

Hyungsik slides the gun to Jihan and states, “I’m not killing you. I’m not dirtying my hands over scum like you. If you want to die, then kill yourself.”

Jihan actually reaches for the gun and I shriek, “No! Stop it! Don’t get brainwashed by him! If you kill yourself, you’re not doing anything for the better! You’re just falling into Hyungsik’s trap!”

“Don’t listen to her,” Hyungsik strolls to Jihan and crouches down to his level. “You know what you need to do. You’ve been guilty all this time. You’ve been living a lie. You need to—“

“Were you lying to me for all these years?” I yell. “Was our friendship nothing? Was our relationship all just an act? If you were really sorry, then you would live to repent your mistakes! You wouldn’t use death as an excuse!”

Jihan holds onto the gun and then unloads it. He gives the pieces back to Hyungsik, muttering, “I think . . . the greatest punishment is for me to stay alive. That’s probably what Hoseok would have wanted too.”

Hyungsik snickers before sticking his hands in his pockets. He signals his body guards to leave and then there is only Jihan and me. Jihan runs to me and unties my hands and legs.

He asks, “Are you okay, Gem?”

His hand is about to stroke my arm, but I flick it away out of instinct. “I . . . I’m sorry,” I reply. “I need some time to think. This is too much for me in a day.”

Even though I try to look him in the eye, I can’t help but let that thought of his being a . . . duplicate or a fraud disappear. His face is Hoseok’s. His personality . . . was that Hoseok or Jihan?

“I’m really sorry, but I . . . was always myself in front of you,” he states.

I glance down at my bruised and sore ankles and wrists. A sigh escapes from my mouth. “I . . . can’t lie to you,” I croak. “I want to believe in you really badly, but . . . when your whole existence is a lie . . . I—“

“I understand,” he helps me finish my sentence. “It’s okay.”

We don’t talk for the remainder of the day. Jihan’s driver drives us to my apartment. It’s a long car ride and I try not to look at him. We’re sitting beside each other, but our eyes are glued to the windows. From the corner of the window, I can see his blurred reflection. I really don’t know who I’m seeing anymore. I’m just so lost. Who was I dating? Who did I love? Everything is so muddled up.

I need a break. I need some time off and I need to do some thinking. Jihan seems to understand how I feel because he doesn’t even follow me to my apartment when we arrive at our lobby.

“I’ll send someone to pack up my belongings,” he tells me. “We probably need some time away from each other. I won’t contact you until you feel comfortable speaking to me.”

“Okay,” I concur. “Let’s . . . do that for now.”

When I’m all by myself in my apartment and close the door behind me, I try my best to act like nothing happened. I tell myself that I need to take a bath and that I probably need to eat something. It seems to be the evening now. As I walk by the kitchen, I notice a box of éclairs sitting on the counter. There is a note attached to the box and it’s definitely Jihan’s writing.

_To the hungry, hungry hippo:_

_Thought you’d enjoy these éclairs. I remember you said you’ve always wanted to try this patisserie’s éclairs. Oh and . . . happy 8 th anniversary! We’ve known each other for 8 years now! Yes, I have been counting._

_With love,_

_Hoseok_

Tears keep streaming down while I read his message. I open up the box to find that most of the chocolate coating on the éclairs have melted and the pastries themselves have hardened. Still, I stuff my face with them. They taste awful now that they’ve been sitting in room temperature for at least several hours, but I don’t care. I need some sweetness in my life right now because I feel like half of my world has fallen apart. My heart is tearing in all directions. I’m mad because he lied to me. I’m disappointed because he wouldn’t tell me the truth and I had to find out in this manner. I’m sad because I can’t see him or treat him the same way anymore. I just see deceit written all over his face. I’m hurt because I know that I’ve fallen for him, but I know I shouldn’t be with him right now. We’re too messed up.


	24. Separation

I never knew separation could be so painful. When someone has been so involved in your life and that person just disappears, you can’t help but feel hopeless, empty, and lost. I became so accustomed to seeing Jihan every day that it feels weird to have my place to myself. I’ve never felt so alone in my life before. I’ve been living by myself for many years now and I don’t miss my family. However, Jihan was only staying at my apartment for a while and . . . seeing that he’s completely out of my life feels like torture.

Sure, Jihan did get his assistant and some movers over to pack his belongings, but there are still bits and pieces that remind me of him. For example, Jihan likes drinking coffee in the morning, so we got a Nespresso. Now I don’t even use that. He also would cook a lot of the meals when he had time, so now my fridge is often empty or I even forget that I have to meal prep by myself. If I do cook something, I overcook and make two portions. If I’m reading something funny, I find myself calling out to Jihan when he’s not even here. I have to stop myself from texting him. I start typing a message and then consciously remind myself to delete the draft.

I try my best to forget what happened because whenever I start thinking about the past, my head and heart both heart. I’m still shocked and upset that he would lie tome, yet I also empathize with him. It’s not completely his fault that things had to happen that way. I can’t excuse his behaviour either because at that time, he wasn’t a child anymore. He was old enough to take responsibility of his actions. All this time, he could have just separated himself from his family after graduating from high school. If he really, really despised his life . . . why did he stay? I don’t understand at all. Was it the comforts of his luxury that persuaded him to live this lie? Had Hyungsik not exposed everything would he keep lying to me until I died? Jihan already knew how I felt about liars because of what my father had done.

I’m also angry at myself because if I love him fully, then I should be able to accept his flaws. Jihan has shown nothing but care towards me. I can feel that he can stand my shortcomings. I don’t think any other guy would have had so much patience with me. I know I’m dense and slow. I’m not good at showing that much affection. I probably think too much as well and I’m indecisive. I’m all these things, yet Jihan says he loves those parts of me too.

I know all this thinking isn’t going to do anything. I’m just blindly running in circles and hoping that an answer will fall on my lap. I pass time by working overtime and binging on some drama series when I can. Occasionally, I’ll watch some tragic movie like _the Notebook_ and cry out all my tears. I can relate to the characters because I too can’t be with the person I love. Lately I’ve started to go for some runs, but I’ve ran too much that my knees are busted. My chiropractor tells me that I shouldn’t be running anymore.

I can only cripple here and there, so I continue working at the office and taking on more and more responsibility until my body burns out. Wheein already warned me a lot that I was doing too much and that I looked like I had lost weight. Namjoon even advised me to take a vacation. It’s only when I’m in the hospital after fainting and being unconscious for a day do I realize that they’re right. I can’t escape through work.

“What were you even thinking?” Wheein shakes me back and forth while yelling at me. The nurse has to pull her away because Wheein is being too violent with my body. Wheein ignores the nurse and comes back to give me a slap in the face. “Do you know how worried we’ve been?” she shrieks, only to be hushed by the nurse.

Wheein gives the nurse the middle finger and then almost starts a fight. Luckily Namjoon shows up and greets me, “Gemma, you okay?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Wheein barks at him and nearly stomps her high-heeled boots on his toe. “Of course she’s not okay. If she were okay, she wouldn’t have fainted and landed herself in the hospital.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbles before taking a seat in the stool beside my bed. “That was stupid of me.”

“Glad you figured that out,” Wheein snickers.

“Wheein,” I sigh. “Don’t be mean now.”

“What?” Wheein bellows. “It’s all his fault and that stupid Hoseok’s or . . . Jihan’s fault . . . whatever his real name is! They lied to you!” Wheein starts bawling like a little girl who lost her favourite toy. “And they h-h-h-hurt you! Do you know how worried I was? You kept getting skinnier and skinnier and he just disappeared! Like how can he do that? Huh?”

Namjoon clarifies in a soft tone, “Jihan said he’d pay for what he had done.”

“Wh-What do you mean by that?” I stammer.

Namjoon hands me his phone and shows me the live stream of a press conference. There’s Jihan talking to all the reporters. He is reading off of a speech and he lets everyone know the truth. My eyes are blinking too many times and I gasp.

“Ugh about time!” Wheein rolls her eyes and comments. I can hear her heels clicking against the floor.

“Wheein!” I remind her and then look at Namjoon. “Does Jihan . . . understand the consequences? He’ll probably go to jail for some sort of identity fraud. His case is unheard of, but I’m pretty sure—“

“Why are you still worrying about him?” Wheein growls. “He’ll have the best lawyers, duh?”

Namjoon ignores her and answers me, “He knows, Gemma. He knows. It’s for the best, he says, and . . . he told me to give you this.” Namjoon reaches into his jacket pocket and hands me an envelope along with a key.

I ask upon receiving the items from him, “What is the key for?”

“I’m not exactly sure to be honest,” Namjoon replies. “I’ve just been told to give these to you and . . .” Namjoon opens his satchel to retrieve a navy cover notebook. This notebook is quite old because the discoloration of the pages and the bent edges. Someone must have been flipping this book quite a bit, I think. “I was cleaning up Hoseok’s place and accidentally found this,” he explains. “Jihan said to burn it, but . . . I gave it a quick skim and I think . . . you’d understand him more if you read it.”

“It’s his diary?” I inquire.

Shaking his head, Namjoon responds, “I think it’s actually Hoseok’s diary, but there are some annotations from Jihan. It’s really all a bit confusing, but I think you’d get it somehow.”

During this whole time, the video of Jihan’s press conference is still streaming. Wheein shuts it off from Namjoon’s phone and drags Namjoon away. I guess she knows that I need time to be alone for now. I gulp once before opening the envelope. I already feel like crying when I see Jihan’s scribble.

_Dear Gemma,_

_You have every right to be angry or disappointed at me. I understand if you don’t want to see me again. I’m really sorry for everything._

_I’ve been a coward all this time. You’re probably wondering why I never left my family earlier. I guess you could say that I was scared that I’d be all by myself. I wanted to hold onto . . . something . . . even if it was wrong. I wanted to be able to live comfortably and normally and . . . I also felt guilty and obliged to live his legacy. I guess you can say I thought I was repenting my sin by living his life as he probably would have wanted._

_But I never expected to meet someone like you and to fall for you. I was so scared that I’d lose you so I just kept lying. Lies don’t go away, right?_

_I guess I’ve learned it the hard way. I hope . . . with all my heart that you find your happiness. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m fine if you hate me too. Just be happy, okay? Don’t get sick because of me. Don’t cry because of me. Don’t think about me. I’m not worth your tears or your time._

_Best,_

_Jihan_

His letter leaves me completely devastated. The tears keep falling and falling even when my eyes are getting sore. I tell myself that I need to stop this sob story. I can’t keep crying over the past. Jihan would also want me to be happy. That would make him happy too.

I’m scared to read Hoseok’s diary, but I know that if I want to move on, I have to be brave. I wipe away my tears and start this journey.

_I learned at a young age that I could get anything I wanted easily. Truthfully, most of the time I never had to even open my mouth to say anything and my wish would be granted. When I told my parents that my friend had the latest video game console, they surprised me the next day with the same model._

_….._

Four years later.

“Adrienne, you have all the files ready?” I confirm with the first-year associate.

Things haven’t changed significantly. I’m still working in a corporate law firm and the most that has happened in terms of my career is a round of promotions. I’m not sure if I’ll be staying in the partnership track however. The hours are becoming draining on me and even though I earn a very decent amount of pay, I still feel kind of empty. I feel like I should do something more interesting.

As for Bogum and my sister, they never got married to each other. Bogum apologized to her and told her that he couldn’t continue with the marriage. Bogum also apologized to me before he left for England again. This time, he wasn’t going to come back. We parted amicably and I thanked him for being a good childhood friend. He gave me one last hug, the sort where I felt like my bones would break. I could feel all the past emotions flowing and I had a few tears in my eyes. I knew that after this embrace, we couldn’t really be friends anymore. Good-bye, my first love. Thank you for letting me understand the reality of love. It’s not all fun and games.

“Ah yes,” Adrienne replies, cutting my thoughts shortly. “I have all the binders with me.”

“Okay. Good,” I answer and shift quickly in my heel. I move too fast that I end up dropping my keys onto the ground.

Adrienne bends forward and hands me my set of keys. “Oh wow,” she comments on the antique-looking key. “That one is really fancy. What’s it for?”

I hold onto that particular key and smile. “I don’t quite know yet,” I reply.

“Then why do you have it?” she inquires.

“It was a gift,” I explain while we hurry down the hallway.

“But aren’t you curious what the key would open?” she asks.

I reply, “I was for a while, but then I forgot about it.”

“If you really forgot about it, then you wouldn’t hook it with your other keys,” she mutters.

I reach for one of the files in her hands and playfully taps her head with the folder. “Focus on your work,” I remind her.

“Y-Y-Yes!” she stammers and chases behind me.

By the time the meeting finishes successfully, it’s already midnight and I take the cab home. As I look out the window, I notice that the whole city has started to sleep. We’re crossing a bridge to get to the quieter part of the city. Whenever I see darkness, I sometimes wonder how Jihan is doing. After reading that diary, I know why he is scared of the dark. To be frank, even now I’m confused by the events in the diary. The scribbles and annotations beside the original writing in the lines make the story even more puzzling. I guess I’ll never know who was really who behind that book.

I don’t even know what Jihan is doing. After he served his year of jail time, he disappeared from the world. He cut off all contact, even with Namjoon. I try to think of places that Jihan would visit, but I really don’t know. From time to time, I wonder how I’d greet him if I really met him once more. I can’t imagine what I’d say to him or what I’d do. I’d probably be speechless.

I’m thinking back to the first time we met, it was at that apartment Namjoon and he shared. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic, so I tell the cab driver to change the route. I end up arriving in front of the apartment building that the two shared. It’s one of those older buildings with looser security, so I’m allowed to enter to the lobby and up the elevator. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I’m tempted to see that room again. When I stand outside that door, I reach for the key that has always been with me. I stick it in and the lock unlocks.

I’m so stunned that I quickly push open the door. My heart is beating too rapidly and I feel like I’m about to see the image of what I want to see. However, there’s nothing in this apartment except for that old sofa. It’s clear that no one has been living here because the floors are all dusty and there are cobwebs here and there. Out of boredom, I plop myself onto the sofa and feel like I sat on something. I get up and take a look at this postcard?

It’s an image of some beach. I’m not even sure where that is. I’m so horrible with geography. I take a picture of this beach and forward it to Wheein. Then I take a look at the back of the post card and there’s some writing.

_See you there . . . if you want._

Wheein messages back saying that Namjoon will text me the location. I forgot to mention that Wheein and Namjoon are now together and I’m not sure if marriage is in their plans. After all that bickering, they got together somehow, but that’s another story for another time.

Within a few minutes, Namjoon has the destination and I’m booking my flight to take my chances. I don’t know what will happen, but I know that I want to see Jihan. I need to see him even if we’re both messed up in our ways. I think somehow . . . we’ll get through this muddle.


	25. Bonjour

 

The days were slow when I was incarcerated. I was judged by the world and nearly everyone was shaming me or laughing at me. I didn’t care because I felt more liberated. I was finally myself. I had my own name now and when I finished my sentence, I didn’t want to be in the spotlight anymore. I had grown tired of living in that “elite” world. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my own life, so I left. For the first time in my life, I was by myself. Tiffany called me crazy, but I ignored her. She could waste her life away. I wasn’t going to do that with mine anymore. My grandfather was so mad at me that he refused to speak to me. My uncle and aunt ignored me too.

It was hard at first because people in the city would recognize me. I was jobless for a long time and luckily I had saved up enough to start a little hotel business by the beach. Although this was a huge downgrade compared to my previous work, I was happier. There was more meaning to giving people happiness than to hoard all that wealth.

What was the hardest was trying to move on from Gemma. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about her. I had grown so used to of her presence. Moreover I had always considered her my ray of sunshine. Now that she was out of my life, I would feel particularly lonely. I’d find myself pretending to talk to her, but of course she would never respond. She wasn’t even there. I also wonder whether she has settled down. Is she happy? What is she doing?

I’m scared of contacting her first though. I don’t think I can take another round of rejection. I’m scared to see her reaction as well. What if she still hates me? That’s why I left her a letter and a key. If she wants to see me, then she’ll use that key to find me.

Truth be told, I never thought she would ever look for me. Four years passed and still there was no word from her. It wasn’t until I was walking along the beach with my bare feet did I see a familiar figure heading in my direction. I slipped on the wet sand and fell on my jeans. She was the one that extended her hand.

“You okay?” she asks.

My hand slowly makes its way up, yet I’m trembling. I don’t know if I can take her hand. She keeps ogling at me, waiting for a response. I’m too nervous that I look away. As soon as I look the other direction, she holds onto my hand and pulls me up.

“Y-You’ve gotten stronger,” I mumble as I stand up straight and pat off the excess sand from my jeans.

She teases with a gentle smile, “You’re just weak.”

We stare at one another for a good minute or two before I reach my hand out to her again. I clear my throat and state, “I . . . I want to start over again. I . . . messed up. I’m sorry, but . . . will you give me another chance?” I have to hold onto my wrist to stop my hand from shaking and I’m still afraid of making eye contact with her. God, this situation is humiliating.

Gemma utters, “Depends . . . if you tell me your full name.”

“It’s Jung Jihan,” I reply.

“Gemma Fan,” she answers.

I feel her hand tightly grasp mine and I even jolt a bit. She smiles sweetly at me and shakes my hand a couple of times. “Nice to see you again,” she remarks.

We finish our handshake and start walking along the beach. I muster the courage to ask her, “H-How are you doing lately?” My eyes scan the area around her fingers and I don’t see a ring. I breathe a sigh of relief. That probably means she’s not married, I hope.

“Life is still the same at the firm. You?” she asks.

I confide, “I’ve been seeing a therapist and I’ve cut ties with nearly everyone I know. I’m sure you’ve heard the news a while back?”

“Yes,” she states. “I was surprised you did that.”

“I should . . . have done that a long time ago,” I profess.

She reminds me, “It’s too late for regrets now. At least you did what you think is right. I admit that it isn’t easy to do that.”

“Gemma,” I call out as she continues to walk ahead of me.

“Yeah?” She turns around, wondering.

“Remember that time when we were at the beach and I threw you into the water?”

I don’t even know why I’m bringing back old memories. I’m not sure if this is appropriate. Maybe I don’t know how to continue a conversation anymore, but I know what I just said sounds silly.

“Of course,” she acknowledges. “I was so mad! And then we had to stay at a hotel together and . . .” Her face reddens and she looks down at her feet.

“I actually run a hotel now,” I tell her. “It’s not like that fancy one. It’s probably even pushing a two or three-star hotel, but—“

She starts giggling at me. Her hands are behind her back as she teases, “Are you trying to ask me to sleep with you?”

“N-N-No!” I stutter and bite my tongue in the process. As I crouch down in pain, Gemma continues to giggle. She lends her hand to me, but this time I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her waist. “I . . . really missed you,” I croak.

Gemma strokes my head and agrees, “I missed you too.”

Maybe at this point in movies, one would imagine the couple embracing and making out with each other. No, not us. I get up and we walk side by side along the beach. We walk in the direction of my little hotel. Then I see a little smile creeping from her lips.

“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

“Us,” she tells me. “We’re both quite silly. We went through so much and we’re back to square one but . . .”

“But?”

“But I think if everything happened like this,” she explains, “I’d still choose this way. I wouldn’t have been able to pretend to be ignorant. You?”

I take a minute to process what she asked. Did I ever regret telling the truth? Yes. I lost so much in the process, but then I think that everything I lost can really be made up for over time like material things. My adopted family never cared much about me anyway. My grandfather only saw me as a tool. I had always been confined in a little box and I kept my true self tucked away. If I became Hoseok, everything would be okay. All the world became a stage and I was that sock puppet.

“I agree,” I declare. “I wouldn’t have done it any other way.”

“By the way, do you guys have food at your hotel?” Gemma out of the blue asks me. “I’m actually starving. I came all the way from the airport, dropped my stuff at another hotel, and rushed here.”

“Of course we have food,” I respond. “I’m the one that makes the food there.”

“Oh so you run a bed and breakfast?”

“I guess you can put it that way.”

“I can’t wait to see you cook again! I’ve really missed your food!” She claps joyfully and flashes a wide smile.

Our conversation continues on. I’m starting to feel like we’re off to a good start. I know this probably isn’t the most ideal ending to our story. However, this ending is perhaps the most fitting. I don’t know whether Gemma and I will be together like before. I don’t know if you can say that we are best friends or we will be lovers. I’m not sure what the future will bring. I’m sure though that I have a spot for her in my life and she has left space for me in hers too. I’m happy like that and I think she is too. We might not be perfect, yet we’re not striving for perfection. At least, I’m not anymore because . . . when was love ever perfect? Love was meant for drama and chaos. If you think about it, two strangers with no blood relations coming together to potentially be with each other till death bid them apart . . . that already sounds jumbled up.

Through this mess, however, there will be some sort of order or balance.

I must have walked too slowly because Gemma turns back and asks, “Something wrong?”

“No,” I shake my head twice while replying. “This is . . . perfect.”

“Then you’re it!”

She taps my arm before dashing away. We’re running around on the beach again, but this time she keeps running straight ahead. I’ll keep running too.

That’s life right?

We just keep moving along.


End file.
